


all of my tomorrows (with you)

by Spikedluv



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Kris Allen, undercover LAPD, is on assignment, he meets Adam Lambert, with whom he feels a deep connection.  Kris breaks his own rule about forming relationships while undercover and sleeps with Adam, only to discover that Adam is DEA and that he lied to Kris.  Kris has to put his own hurt aside to work with Adam, but will Adam be able to convince Kris that they could be more than partners on this assignment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of my tomorrows (with you)

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda schmoopy with a little bit of angst. Written for the kradambigbang. Also, I know that Adam didn’t write ‘If I Had You’, but for purposes of this fic, he did.
> 
> Written: August 1, 2011

Kris Allen had been tending bar at He’s All That for almost four weeks now. Before that he’d slung parts at Racer’s Paradise, where most of the drivers in the LA underground racing scene got their parts, and before that he’d bussed tables at Caroline’s Café, where Carlito Sun, suspected bank robber, couldn’t resist the coffee, or the pastries.

His resume might indicate a jack of all trades; a man that could do pretty much anything, even if it appeared that he couldn’t commit to one job for more than a couple of months. In reality, however, Kris had held only one job for the past three years. Though he’d never donned a uniform, not even on graduation day (which circumstances had forced him to miss), he was a police officer with the LAPD.

Kris had been cherry picked by Lt. Sgt. Ryan Seacrest for an undercover assignment while he was still in the academy. He had been near the top of his class in marksmanship, self-defense, and test scores, but that hadn’t been he was approached. Per Seacrest, the fact that he was cute, tiny and Southern had been the clincher.

When Kris met Chief Simon Cowell for the first time, he’d studied Kris with an expression of dismay. “Jesus Christ, Ryan, they’re going to eat him alive.”

“Isn’t that the point? Sir,” Kris had interjected.

Cowell had looked at him more closely then, and Kris had felt like the antelope being eyed up by the tiger. Kris was used to people underestimating him, whether due to his size or his easy going manner, and he thought that might be his best bit of camouflage.

“He hasn’t had any training,” Cowell said to Seacrest, though his eyes remained on Kris.

“We’ll get him up to speed,” Seacrest assured him.

“I don’t want to lose another officer,” Cowell said, and this time his eyes did pin Seacrest.

It was the first Kris had heard about that, but he wouldn’t let it scare him. He’d signed on for the job because, as cliche as it sounded, he’d believed that the bad guys needed to be removed from the streets so they would be safe for mothers and children. And Roberto Alvarez was a very bad man. Prostitution. Drugs. Guns. If there was money to be made, Alvarez had a hand in it.

“We won’t,” Seacrest said.

The supposedly upscale Key Largo went through wait staff like those little pink umbrellas, so it was easy for Kris to get a job there. Less easy was getting used to his ‘uniform’, which consisted of a pair of short shorts he would’ve been embarrassed to wear in front of his mama, and an aqua colored tank top with the club’s name screen printed over his left pec. (Kris had mentioned that it felt a size too small, but Larry, the manager, had told him that it would sell more drinks, and that he’d get better tips. Kris had to admit, he did get pretty good tips.)

On Kris’ third night working at the club, Roberto Alvarez finally showed up. Kris spotted Alvarez the moment he came in, and he kept half of his attention on the other man as he continued to serve drinks and fend off grabby hands. Not long after Alvarez had been seated and provided with a bottle of complimentary champagne, Kris felt Alvarez’s eyes burning into him as he did his best to appear unaware of the other man. Kris was, after all, just his type.

Halfway through his shift, Kris was told that the boss wanted to see him. As expected, he was led to the VIP section and introduced to Roberto Alvarez. Still, Kris had to grit his teeth to keep from reacting at the way Alvarez eyed him up, as if he was a treat for him to devour.

“What are your plans for the night?” Alvarez asked Kris.

Kris was sure the man was trying to be smooth and suave, but Kris felt as if he’d been slimed just knowing that Alvarez was attracted to him, no matter that was the plan.

“Finishing my shift, then sleeping.”

“Perhaps you’d consider spending some time with me after your shift. We could get to know one another.”

Alvarez reached out and slipped a finger beneath the leg of Kris’ shorts. Kris automatically removed his hand, a move he’d learned and perfected over the past three days.

“In your bed?” Kris said wryly. “I’m not that easy.” Or desperate, Kris thought.

Alvarez’s eyes slid over Kris’ body, and Kris had to force himself not to shudder at the avarice in the other man’s eyes. The look left him feeling soiled in a way nothing else ever had. Roberto Alvarez was actually a good looking man. If you didn’t know better, you couldn’t tell by looking at him that he prostituted young boys and girls after getting them hooked on drugs, and sold weapons that kept the gangs in LA well armed. Kris did know better, and he could see the ugliness of Alvarez’s soul reflected in his features.

“Your attire says differently,” Alvarez commented evenly, but Kris refused to be thrown or baited by the observation.

“It’s a uniform,” Kris said, “not my outfit of choice. I needed a job, this place was hiring, and it pays well. Doesn’t make me a slut.”

“You’d be well compensated for your time,” Alvarez told him.

“Or a whore,” Kris said before he excused himself and returned to work.

Kris got reamed out by Cowell the next day for not accepting Alvarez’s offer. Once he got inside Alvarez’s home, it would have been easy for him to plant a bug, but Kris thought he’d get more information if he got closer to Alvarez. And nothing intrigued a man like Alvarez as much as being told ‘no’. Besides, Kris wasn’t keen on the idea of sleeping with the other man, who made Kris want to take a shower just from being in the same room with him.

Kris had been right. Alvarez pursued him until Kris said yes to a date. Even then, Kris made him work for the next date, and didn’t allow him so much as a chaste kiss on the lips until their third.

Kris wasn’t naive enough to think that Alvarez was being monogamous, even if he hadn’t been under surveillance by LAPD, but he didn’t care so long as Alvarez didn’t push it when Kris breathlessly said, “My mama would be so disappointed in me if she thought I’d moved to LA and lost my sense of what’s right and wrong,” as he pushed Alvarez’s hand away from his waistband. Still, Kris had to rinse his mouth out twice and take the hottest shower he could stand after every ‘date’ with Alvarez.

On the plus side, however, he had been able to plant several bugs. He was careful not to place them in areas that were swept daily, though that did limit the intel they were able to gather. One night Kris was able to slip a bug that looked like a button into Alvarez’s jacket pocket when he dropped by Key Largo to see Kris before heading to a meeting. Kris wasn’t worried about Alvarez suspecting him, since anyone in the club could’ve planted the bug. It was a longshot, but it paid off. Since Alvarez was hosting the meet, he made sure the other party was clean of listening devices, but never thought to check himself.

LAPD picked up Joseph Maksim, the gun dealer Alvarez had met with, and though he refused to talk or cooperate (his fear of Alvarez was greater than his fear of jail), they were able to shut his organization down, which meant that Alvarez needed another weapons supplier.

Alvarez contacted Maksim’s second in command (in reality an undercover operative named Anoop Desai), who had escaped the LAPD raid by virtue of being out of the country at the time, and had used Alvarez’s connections to set up his own operation. (The real second had actually been killed during the sweep of one of Maksim’s warehouses.) Desai took Kris’ success with Alvarez to heart and refused to take a meet with him, claiming that he didn’t want to end up in jail like his former boss had after meeting with Alvarez.

Alvarez was angry, which meant he grew careless. He spoke with his men and took calls in front of Kris as if he’d become a fixture, rather than something Alvarez needed to concern himself with. Kris passed on everything he overheard, no matter how inconsequential it seemed, to his contact in the department, Michael Sarver, a seasoned detective who still showed his Texas roots when he spoke.

They investigated every lead, but held off on making any arrests until they could take down all of Roberto Alvarez’s organization at once, or as much of it as possible. Finally Kris got the word to be ready. The next day a joint task force of LAPD, FBI and DEA executed a sting operation that took several dozen small time dealers off the street. Under the cover of the widespread sting they concentrated first on the dealers that could lead them up the ladder to Alvarez.

Labs were raided, and Alvarez’s supply lines broken up. Kris wanted to be out there making arrests, but knew that he could best serve by remaining where he was, passing on new information when he received it. Kris went to work, and met with Alvarez when the other man sent for him.

The more hits his operation took, the angrier and more unhinged Alvarez became. Desai contacted Alvarez, and though he was suspicious, he was also growing desperate, so he accepted Desai’s explanation that Alvarez’s current troubles with law enforcement had changed his mind as to who was responsible for Maksim’s arrest.

It was the final nail in Alvarez’s coffin. With a return to greatness within his reach, Alvarez was even more determined to broker the deal and keep his operation afloat.

Kris was working his shift at Key Largo when the bust went down. He was ‘arrested’ near the end of his shift in full view of everyone in the club, and then taken to the station. He was alternately filled in on what was going on, and debriefed for 12 hours under the guise of being interrogated, and then sent home to the cheap apartment the LAPD had put him in for the duration of his assignment.

The first thing Kris did was shower, to try and wash off the stink of having dealt with Roberto Alvarez that had seeped into his skin. The next day he called and quit his job at Key Largo with a heartfelt, “I just can’t work there anymore.”

Kris was picked up twice more for ‘questioning’ before being officially ‘released’ without being charged with a crime. He was given a week of vacation before being called in to meet with Cowell, Seacrest and Sarver. They thanked him for a job well done, and then gave him the choice of donning a uniform or staying under.

Undercover work was a lot of mind numbing boredom interspersed with moments of excitement and terror, but Kris had been riding a high since the arrests had been made. After having made such a difference, Kris wasn’t sure he’d be satisfied walking a beat.

None of the three men appeared surprised when Kris chose to stay under, though Cowell gave him an appraising look, as if considering for the first time that there was more to Kris than met the eye. A week later Kris had been moved to another, equally cheap (his cover was a down and out musician, after all, Cowell reminded him) apartment, with a new job, and a new assignment.

Over the months and years he spent undercover, Kris learned how to live the lie. Seacrest had told him before his first assignment that the best lies were based in truth. He’d also learned to never let anyone get close. The lies he became so good at telling, and each new assignment he accepted, made it impossible for Kris to build real, lasting relationships. Kris had learned that lesson the hard way, and since then had followed that rule without exception, being friendly and polite, but only making acquaintances he could walk away from without breaking anyone’s heart when the assignment ended.

Until the night Adam Lambert walked into He’s All That and turned Kris’ world upside down.

~*~*~*~

“He’s cute,” Cale said.

Cale had started at He’s All That just a few weeks before Kris. He was probably the closest thing Kris had to a friend, though Kris had managed to keep it ‘on the job’ by refusing every invitation to hang out after work that Cale had issued.

“Who?” Kris asked distractedly as he concentrated on measuring and pouring and shaking.

Cale snorted. “You know who.”

Kris blushed, but managed to keep his gaze focused on the drink he was mixing rather than letting his eyes wander down to the end of the bar where the most gorgeous man Kris had ever seen sipped the margarita Kris had made for him.

“Oh, him,” Kris said, sounding far less cool than he’d tried for. “He’s alright, I guess, if you like that sort of thing.”

Cale laughed loud enough to draw stares, and Kris felt the tips of his ears burn. Where was his hard earned ability to tell a lie and smile while doing so when he needed it?

Kris refilled drinks on his way to the end of the bar where tall, dark and gorgeous sat, trying to cover his eagerness to just be near the other man.

“How you doing?” Kris said, indicating the drink.

“Good, for now,” TD&G said. “But this is really good. Best margarita I’ve ever had, so I’ll definitely be having another one.”

Kris blushed at the compliment, which wasn’t like him. He tried to make his smile impersonal and polite, but he was pretty sure he’d failed spectacularly. “I’m glad you like it. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

TD&G’s eyes went lazy, his voice low. “Oh, I will.”

Kris blushed at the innuendo, real or imagined, he heard in the words. He was grateful when Trent appeared with a tray of empties and a long drink order that needed to be filled.

Kris pulled beer and mixed drinks and poured shots automatically as his eyes moved over the crowd, looking for trouble or any indication of a drug deal going down. LAPD had gotten word that He’s All That was a cover for a major drug dealer, but so far Kris had only noticed small time stuff.

Kris sent Trent off with a loaded tray, listened to Cale complain about the size of the crowd (and therefore the size of their tips), and then glanced down to the end of the bar. TD&G’s glass was empty. Kris’ heart skipped a beat as he made his way down the bar.

“Ready for another?”

“Please.”

Kris mixed the margarita. It took him longer than usual because he could feel TD&G’s eyes on him, and it turned him all fumble fingers in ways that dealing with the scum of the earth who would as easily kill him as not hadn’t. Finally Kris removed the empty glass and set the fresh drink in front of the other man.

“Thank you,” TD&G said appreciatively. “My name’s Adam, by the way.”

“Oh,” Kris said, at a loss for words for a second. “Um, hi. My name’s Kris. With a ‘k’.”

Adam smiled, slow and wide, and it did things to Kris’ belly, even before Adam licked his lips after taking a sip of the margarita.

“Mmm,” Adam said. “Delicious.”

His eyes (blue, lined in black, Kris noticed), and the tone of his voice (smooth and smokey; Kris had always wondered what people meant when they said someone had a voice like the finest whiskey) made Kris wonder if Adam was talking about the drink, or about how he thought Kris might taste.

Which was ridiculous, because surely someone who looked like Adam wouldn’t be interested in Kris. Not that Kris was interested. Or that he would do anything if he was. Because he had rules.

Rules were made to be broken, Kris’ subconscious supplied. Kris told his subconscious to shut up.

Kris returned to work, but only half his attention was on the job he was supposed to be doing; the rest was on Adam. Though Kris tried not to look at him too often, he knew every sip he took, and each time he was approached by another man. Not that Kris was keeping track.

Kris couldn’t help being surprised each time he glanced over and saw Adam still sitting at the end of the bar, alone, eyes meeting Kris’ and holding them without pretending that it had been accidental.

“He’s watching you,” Cale said, and Kris jumped.

“What?”

“Your boyfriend,” Cale said, indicating Adam with a tilt of his head.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Kris said, but he couldn’t lie; he’d missed that feeling you get, like you’re walking on air, when you first meet someone you’re attracted to.

Adam remained until Kris’ shift ended. Kris made him a third margarita, and then he switched to ice water with lemon. He asked Kris questions, like where he got his pretty southern accent (Kris did not blush), and how long he’d been in LA.

And he flirted. Sometimes it was just the way he looked at Kris, or smiled at him. Other times he said things like, “You have beautiful eyes,” that made Kris blush and stutter out a, “They’re just eyes,” that made Adam laugh. Kris had never been turned on by the sound of someone’s laugh before.

And there was no denying that he was turned on. He didn’t even bother trying to deny it when Cale teased him. He couldn’t fault Cale for being intrigued; it was the first time he’d show an interest in anyone since he’d started working at the club.

Kris really thought he could like Adam – in addition to being the hottest guy Kris had ever seen, he seemed sweet and funny (not everything he said was flirty or designed to make Kris blush) – which was exactly the reason Kris shouldn’t even be considering breaking his #1 rule. No good, long lasting relationship could grow from the lies he’d have to tell.

Still, when Adam offered to buy Kris a drink at the end of his shift, Kris said ‘yes’. Kris had a beer, Adam an Irish coffee. They sat at the bar, but it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. Adam asked Kris questions, and when Kris answered, he really listened. Kris told Adam that he liked to play guitar during his free time, and Adam admitted to singing ‘a little bit’.

Adam made Kris laugh when he waggled his eyebrows and suggested that they could make beautiful music together.

Kris retorted, “Maybe you could come over sometime and I’ll show you my . . . guitar.”

Kris blushed when Adam gave him a wide-eyed look of surprise, and then laughed happily. “It’s always the quiet ones,” he said, looking at Kris as if he wanted to learn everything about him to figure out what made him tick.

When Cale rang the bell for last call, Adam took Kris’ hand and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Kris didn’t look at Cale, though he could feel his eyes on him as he slid off the stool and followed Adam to the front door. He let Adam kiss him, outside on the sidewalk, the flashing neon signs in the windows throwing splashes of light across their faces.

Adam didn’t ask, so Kris didn’t have to say ‘no’. They walked in silence to Kris’ apartment, Kris’ hand in Adam’s, their trip interrupted only by the times Adam paused to tug Kris to him and kiss him.

By the time they reached Kris’ apartment, he’d stopped thinking about how much of a mistake this could be. Mostly because the majority of his blood had surged south, but partly because he’d decided (quite selfishly) to just live in the moment and not think about what the future might bring.

Kris fumbled to unlock the door (it might have been quicker to jimmy the flimsy lock) with Adam pressed against his back, hands squeezing his hips, mouth creating tingles that spread out from where his lips were attached to Kris’ neck in a direct line to his dick.

Kris made a low growl of frustration because Adam’s hands were so close to where he needed them to be, and finally, as if sensing his mood, the key turned. Kris let them into his apartment, not caring that he hadn’t done anything with the place since moving in, aside from tossing a brightly colored throw over the back of the old couch, or that he hadn’t bothered to make his bed that morning.

Adam didn’t seem to care, either. The only attention he paid to the apartment was when he pushed Kris up against the closed door and kissed him as if Kris was the very air he needed to breathe, and then asked Kris how to get to his bedroom.

Kris was too busy thinking about how good Adam smelled and trying to get more friction on his dick for old concerns to rear their head. He pointed the way, and Adam got them there. It was a good thing Adam took charge because Kris was in no shape. He felt like a teenager experiencing his first time; his entire body flooded with a need he couldn’t control or explain.

It wasn’t as if he’d gone without for the past three years. Not forming lasting relationships didn’t mean he didn’t have a perfectly functional right hand, or that he’d never indulged in back alley blow jobs. But those instances had lacked the connection he felt now.

Kris knew it sounded ridiculous, but he’d learned to follow his instincts, and his gut told him that Adam was someone he could trust. If not with his real identity, then with his body, and perhaps his heart.

The way Adam touched him made Kris feel as if he’d never been touched before. He left no spot on Kris’ body untouched, by fingers, or lips, or tongue. Kris had been brought to the brink, only to be eased back down, so many times that he was wrung out before he’d even reached his release. His throat was raw from cries of pleasure, and from begging.

Adam kept Kris balanced on the razor’s edge until he was buried deep inside him. As he thrust into him, Adam allowed Kris to fly free. Kris soared as Adam relentlessly pounded that spot inside him, higher and higher, until he thought he could touch the sky.

Bright lights exploded behind his eyes like the sun gone supernova. Kris thought he cried out Adam’s name, but he couldn’t hear it. He started falling, tumbling back to earth, and everything went dark.

When Kris opened his eyes Adam held him, stroking a hand up and down his back.

“Adam?” Kris croaked.

“Hey,” Adam said, speaking softly. “You okay?”

Kris huffed a weak laugh, and then drawled. “Mmm, yeah. Can’t move, though.”

Adam chuckled against the side of Kris’ face, then placed a kiss there. “I was worried.”

“I’ve never been . . . .” Touched. Fucked. Taken apart and put back together. “. . . like that.”

Adam seemed to understand, despite Kris’ inability to put what he was feeling into words. “You need someone to take care of you.”

“Can take care m’self,” Kris mumbled.

“Of course you can,” Adam said indulgently.

“You staying?” Kris said.

He probably wouldn’t have asked if he’d had all his wits about him, but apparently Adam had fucked his brains out. He also might have wondered more about the slight hesitation and the way Adam briefly stiffened before relaxing into the mattress and shifting Kris more comfortably against him.

“I’d like that,” Adam said.

Kris fell asleep to the press of Adam’s lips against the top of his head.

~*~

Adam was still there when Kris woke to the sun shining into his bedroom. He was awake, watching Kris. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, and Kris could see his actions in the bright light of day, he couldn’t believe some of the things he’d said to Adam last night, much less the things he’d let Adam do to him.

“Hey, now, none of that,” Adam said. He pressed the backs of his fingers to Kris’ heated cheek. “No regrets,” he added softly, “because last night was amazing.”

Kris’ cheeks went even hotter, and Adam’s mood shifted. He gave a delighted laugh and nuzzled into Kris’ neck. His fingers moved over Kris, seeking out the spots he’d found the night before, and taking Kris from languid and sleepy to wide awake and responsive with a speed that stole his breath away.

Kris tried to touch Adam, return the favor, but Adam whispered, “Let me, let me, let me,” into Kris’ skin, and so Kris did. He shivered beneath Adam’s hands, and trembled under his mouth.

Adam pressed inside him and moved until Kris couldn’t take it any more. There was so much building inside him, and it felt like it was trying to escape through his skin. He opened his mouth to let it out, and Adam covered Kris’ lips with his own, taking everything Kris couldn’t contain into himself, and then offering it back, along with the pieces of himself that Kris had touched, until Kris couldn’t tell where he ended and Adam began.

Kris felt like he might never be able to move again. He must’ve said that out loud because Adam huffed a laugh that tickled against his neck.

“We have to move,” Adam said, “if for no other reason that to eat. Replenish our energy,” he added with enough innuendo to make Kris blush.

Adam chuckled. “I love making you blush. So refreshing to find someone who isn’t jaded by it all.”

“Hey, I’m plenty jaded,” Kris drawled, too lazy and comfortable to put much heat in it.

“Of course you are, baby,” Adam said.

Kris was contemplating whether it was worth the energy to make his muscles work so he could pinch Adam when his stomach rumbled. Adam rubbed his hand over Kris’ belly, as if trying to sooth a savage beast. The imagery made Kris giggle. Adam lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at Kris, and it made him giggle again.

Adam shook his head, but he was smiling. “You need to eat something,” he said as he lowered his head to the pillow and pulled his gaze away from Kris’. “Shower and breakfast?” Adam asked.

Kris realized that it was an offer as much as a question. It made his insides twist a little bit to know that Adam wasn’t as sure of himself as he appeared.

“Breakfast sounds good,” Kris said, placing his hand over Adam’s. “So does a shower, actually,” he added when the dried come on his belly started to itch.

They showered together, but it wasn’t as sexy as it sounded, because Kris could barely stand on his own. It was kind of embarrassing, especially when he caught the self-satisfied and slightly smug expression on Adam’s face.

Adam washed them both. To be fair, Kris tried to help, but his fingers mostly got in the way. Adam gently brushed them aside and ran slick hands over Kris’ belly.

“I’ve got you,” Adam said. “I’m going to take care of you.”

Kris tipped his head back. He thought he’d been going to tell Adam that he could take care of himself, but Adam was looking at him so sweetly that the words died on his tongue. Adam pressed a tender kiss to his lips, and Kris heard himself say, “Okay.”

Kris let Adam finish soaping him up; it felt amazing, and if he had just a scootch more energy something might have happened. When Adam started on his own chest and belly, Kris lathered his hands and reached between Adam’s legs. Adam groaned as Kris stroked him with soapy fingers, and then gently disengaged them.

“After breakfast,” Adam promised, his voice rough. “Do my back so we can get out of here.”

“Okay,” Kris said agreeably, but instead of letting Adam turn around, Kris wrapped his arms around him and slid his hands over his back. It had the added benefit of bringing their fronts together, which Kris wasn’t above taking advantage of.

Adam groaned again as Kris went up on his toes and rubbed against him. Kris raised his face and Adam claimed his lips. Adam broke the kiss with a reluctant moan.

“You have no idea what a temptation you are.”

Kris thought that was pretty unfair, since Adam had tempted him to break his sacrosanct rule numero uno when it came to relationships. If anyone was a temptation, it was Adam.

Adam got them both washed and rinsed without anymore play time, which Kris thought was a shame. They dried off and got dressed. Kris hated seeing Adam’s skin, all pale and sprinkled with freckles, hidden beneath the material of jeans and t-shirt.

“Listen, Kris,” Adam said, sounding more serious than he had any time since they’d met.

Kris glanced at Adam as he picked up the clothes that had been tossed on the floor last night. He remembered Adam stripping them off him and dropping them wherever they fell so he could get to Kris’ skin.

“Yeah?” Kris said, blushing, then, “Crap!”

He fished his phone out of his pocket before throwing the jeans towards the hamper and realized that he hadn’t checked his phone before going to bed. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten; he *always* did that in case Michael needed to get in touch with him.

“Sorry,” Kris told Adam. “I forgot to check my messages last night.”

Adam nodded and made a ‘go ahead’ gesture. Kris opened his messages and saw that there were two from Michael. The first merely said, ‘411,’ which meant that he had information for Kris, and the second just, ‘9am’. Kris glanced at the clock. Shit, he was going to be late.

“What is it?” Adam said, indicating the cell in Kris’ hand.

“Nothing, just an appointment I forgot about,” Kris said easily, though the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. He shoved the phone into his pocket, as if he could hide the lie with it. “I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

 

Kris watched the expressions cross Adam’s face and wished he knew Adam well enough to read them all.

Adam shook his head sadly. “It can wait.”

Kris felt as if he’d missed something. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Okay,” Kris agreed. He grimaced. “Rain check on breakfast?”

“I’d like that,” Adam said.

And then he kissed Kris like it would be their last.

~*~*~*~

By the time Kris reached the café where he and Sarver usually met, Michael sat outside, Kris’ coffee on the table, his own nearly finished.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kris said as he slid into the chair opposite Michael. He took a careful sip of the coffee, but it had sat long enough to cool for him to drink it without burning himself, so he took a larger sip.

“Thank you,” Kris said gratefully when he put the cup down.

“You’re welcome. How are you doing?”

“Good,” Kris said, trying not to squirm in his seat, or think about why sitting was a little bit uncomfortable now.

“You sure?” Michael said, frown lines splitting his forehead. “You look, I don’t know, different.”

Kris blushed, and wondered if Michael could tell just by looking at him that he’d had sex last night. He took another sip of coffee to have something to do with his mouth so he wouldn’t blurt out something embarrassing.

“So,” Kris said when he finally lowered the cup. “What’s up? Are they finally pulling me?”

The intel they’d received about He’s All That being a front for a major drug operation had yet to bear fruit. The four weeks he’d been under, Kris had uncovered no evidence of anyone using the club to broker major drug deals. He wouldn’t be surprised if the LAPD had decided to cut their losses.

Michael stared searchingly at Kris for a few seconds longer before he answered. “Just the opposite, actually. Let’s walk.”

There was a park two blocks down, and they headed there. Kris took his coffee with him, while Michael dumped his empty cup in the trash.

“DEA’s been hearing chatter. They want in.”

“You’re kidding,” Kris said.

He was less surprised that the DEA wanted in (he’d worked a couple of cases with them since the Alvarez assignment) than that there might actually be something to the rumors and whispers that had led Kris to his current assignment.

Michael shook his head. “We’re supposed to meet with a couple of their agents today. Share intel, coordinate a plan of action. They want to put one of their guys under with you, but the Chief’s balking at that – he doesn’t want to upset the apple cart, they claim two pair of eyes are better than one.”

Kris snorted. Chief Cowell was pretty imposing and blunt. He could just imagine how clearly he’d phrased and stated his opinion.

“What time’s the meeting?”

Michael checked his watch. “Eleven. We’ve still got time.”

“Sorry,” Kris said again, covering his fluster with the coffee cup. “I forgot to check my messages before I went to bed.”

“You must’ve been pretty tired to forget that,” Michael said blandly. “What was his name?”

“What?” Kris said. He tried to make it sound casually disinterested, but even to his ears it sounded like a horrified little squeak.

“The guy who gave you that hickey.”

“What?” Kris said again (and it wasn’t a girly shriek, no matter how many times Michael told the story that way), slapping his hand over his neck as if he could make Michael forget about it if he couldn’t see it. “I mean, I don’t have a hickey.”

Michael smirked.

“You ass,” Kris said without much heat as he dropped his hand, “I *don’t* have a hickey.”

“It’s about time you got laid,” Michael said.

“I didn’t . . . ,” Kris began, then broke off the denial.

“Was he cute?”

He was _gorgeous_ , Kris thought, but out loud he said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Michael laughed. “So,” he said when he’d finished enjoying himself at Kris’ expense. “The mall?”

Kris Allen, undercover operative, actually led a pretty uninteresting life, and it was unlikely that anyone was following him, but they always took precautions to make sure they lost any possible tail when Kris had to attend a meeting at the precinct. Even though Kris hated the mall on a normal day, he was still feeling pretty good about last night. And this morning. He only realized where his thoughts had wandered when Michael laughed again.

Kris blushed when Michael said, “You gonna be able to keep your mind on the meeting?”

“Shut up,” Kris said, elbowing Michael in the side. But he couldn’t deny that he was in a good mood. Good enough that he splurged on a new pair of sunglasses, since he’d left the apartment in a rush and left his behind. He tried on a couple pair, then paid for the black ones, and tucked the bow in his front pocket until they got back outside.

He didn’t bother trying to hide his smile from Michael.

~*~

On the way to the conference room they passed Cowell’s office. He was speaking heatedly with Seacrest, but when he saw them he waved them in.

“Did Sarver fill you in?” Cowell said, less of a question than a demand for Kris to answer in the affirmative.

Which he did.

“What do you think?”

“As long as they don’t screw up an ongoing investigation . . . .” Kris ignored the fact that their investigation was actually going nowhere. “Or blow my cover, I guess I don’t have any objections. I mean, we’ve worked okay with the DEA before.”

Seacrest snorted, then looked at the floor when Cowell turned his ever-present glare on him.

“We’ve never worked with this particular agent before,” Cowell said. “I’m not sure yet how well he works with others.”

Which meant he hadn’t caved to Cowell’s demands. Cowell tended to like to run things, even when the Feds got involved, and he didn’t care for anyone questioning his authority.

Cowell checked his watch. “Well, let’s go see what they have to say,” he said, his tone saying, let’s get this over with.

Cowell led the way to the conference room. Inside were two men Kris didn’t recognize. They were wearing suits, so Kris figured they were DEA, but they couldn’t have looked more different from one another. One had bleached blond hair that was longer on one side, and his tie had funky little guitars on it. The other had dark hair cut short, wore black plastic framed glasses, and looked like he had a stick up his ass.

Kris immediately felt bad for the uncharitable thoughts, until Agent Danny Gokey gave him a condescending look when they were introduced, and a handshake that said he was afraid of catching something.

Agent Tommy Joe Ratliff, on the other hand, gave Kris a firm handshake and a polite, “Pleased to meet you.”

The door opened and a third agent entered. Cowell looked at the door expectantly, as if he’d been expecting someone else, then bit back the irritation he was clearly waiting to unleash on someone.

“Agent Monte Pitman,” Seacrest said, completing the introductions.

“Call me Monte,” the agent said as they shook hands, then asked, “You play guitar?”

Kris couldn’t keep the expression of surprise off his face. “Yeah, how . . . ?”

“Calluses,” Monte said. He turned his own hand over. “Me, too. And Tommy.” He indicated Agent Ratliff over his shoulder.

Kris glanced at the agent, who gave him a little wave. Kris waved back.

“Nice tie.”

Tommy grinned, and it transformed his face. “Thanks.”

Gokey looked as if he’d just bitten into something sour. Kris didn’t have time to worry about it because Michael nudged him and offered him a cup of coffee fixed just the way he liked it. After three years of working together, it was the least of the things he’d learned about Kris. Despite the cup he’d already drank, Kris accepted the coffee gratefully. He was used to getting by on little sleep, but only with the aid of caffeine.

Cowell had taken a seat at the head of the table, Seacrest at his right. Kris sat to his left, with Michael to his right, between him and the big bad DEA agents at the other end of the table, as if he needed to be protected from them. Monte and Tommy sat on the other side of the table, catty corner from Kris and Michael, with Agent Gokey across from them and a few seats down on Kris’ side. They’d left the seat on the end empty, as if they were waiting for someone.

That observation was confirmed when Cowell spoke. “Where the hell is . . . ?”

The door opened once more and a fourth agent entered the conference room.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said calmly, showing no outward appearance of having rushed, or being all that sorry, actually.

Kris heard Cowell grind his teeth together, which surprised him. He wouldn’t have thought he could hear anything over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

“Glad you could make it, Agent Lambert,” Cowell said, biting off each word.

“Thank you,” the agent said, as if Cowell had been perfectly serious. “Has everyone been introduced?”

Kris felt Agent Lambert’s eyes on him, but he didn’t raise his own from where they bore a hole into the table. He didn’t need to look again, because the image of Adam, hair slicked back and wearing a suit that looked out of place on the man Kris had met last night, was burned into his memory. He’d done his hair and freshened the liner around his eyes, Kris remembered thinking, before the only thing he could think was that Adam had lied to him. That nothing that had happened last night had been real.

Kris felt cold all over, and all he wanted to do was get up and leave. Run. But he couldn’t do that, because he had a job to do. And because the last thing he wanted was for every person in this room to know that he’d been an idiot, and fallen for Adam’s lies.

“Yes,” Cowell answered for everyone. “Can we get on with this?”

“Of course,” Adam said. Lambert. It was easier if Kris didn’t think of Agent Lambert as Adam, because everything Adam was had been a lie. Agent Lambert unbuttoned his jacket and took the empty seat. “Tommy?”

Tommy started speaking, laying out the intel they’d gathered, and Kris forced himself to listen. He was an undercover officer – the least he could do was pretend he hadn’t been gut punched when the man he’d slept with last night walked through the door wearing a suit and calling himself Agent Lambert.

Kris buried his hurt the same way he’d once had to bury his disgust to get the job done, and paid attention to everything Tommy said. Tommy’s report was followed by Monte’s, who added a slide show of pictures and background on everyone involved. Gokey (he’d been so unpleasant that Kris had trouble thinking of him as Danny) laid out the plan they’d come up with to make the bust, using Kris and his already established cover.

Kris even managed to ask some intelligent sounding questions. Seeing how the chatter the DEA had heard fit with the rumors the LAPD had heard could make or break their case, and keep Kris from making a mistake that might raise suspicion.

Ownership of the club had recently been transferred to a man by the name of Marc Anthony. A routine background search had uncovered a connection, through Anthony’s wife, Jennifer Lopez, to Randy Jackson, an up and coming drug dealer that was expanding his territory down the west coast. If the club wasn’t a cover for drug deals, it would undoubtedly be used to launder the money, which they would be able to trace back to Jackson.

The fact that Kris had already been in position for four weeks was important, because they wouldn’t have to waste time (or raise suspicion) getting someone else into place.

Kris stiffened when Cowell asked, “And what’s your plan for getting one of your agents on the inside?”

Kris squeezed his hands into fists on his legs and tried not to react when Lambert said, “I’ll be going in. I’ve already made contact with Officer Allen.”

Kris felt everyone’s eyes on him. He raised his head and met Lambert’s gaze.

“You what?” Cowell exploded. “I expressly told you to stay away from the club until we could bring Kris in and discuss this.”

“I ignored your suggestion,” Lambert said.

Any other time Kris might be able to enjoy the way Cowell went purple with rage, but right now he was too conscious of Michael’s eyes burning a hole in him. He glanced over just long enough to confirm Michael’s suspicions, then stared at the wall above Seacrest’s perfectly coifed head.

“I know that Kris, Officer Allen, is one of your best undercover officers,” Lambert said, and damn if he didn’t sound like he meant it,” but I needed to see him in action. I needed to know that I would be comfortable working with him.”

“And are you?” Monte said evenly, giving Lambert a look Kris couldn’t decipher. “Comfortable working with him?”

“Yes,” Lambert said without taking his eyes off Cowell.

“What are your thoughts, Kris?” Seacrest said calmly, lending a voice of reason to the situation. “Can _you_ work with Agent Lambert?”

“I’ve worked with Roberto Alvarez,” Kris said. “I can work with pretty much anyone.”

It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but it was the best Kris could manage without giving away too much.

A snort from the other end of the table pulled Kris out of his thoughts.

“That’s not all you did with Roberto Alvarez,” Gokey muttered, his voice nasty and mean.

Michael jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over. “What the fuck did you just say?” he growled at Gokey.

Kris’ heart nearly leapt into his throat at the sudden movement, but he was more surprised to hear Michael swear. A healthy look of fear crossed Gokey’s face as he started to rise to face Michael, who was as big and strong as a bull moose.

“Danny!” Lambert snapped, and Kris put a restraining hand on Michael’s arm.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Kris said, staring at Lambert to emphasize just who he thought believed it, “I don’t use sex as a weapon, or a tool, during my assignments.” Unlike others I could mention, his eyes said.

Cowell stared Lambert down, and if looks could kill Kris thought he would be a pile of smoldering ash right now. “If he ever speaks that way to or about my officer again, he’s off the task force.”

“You can’t do that . . . ,” Gokey began, only to be cut off by Lambert’s, “Agreed.”

Gokey turned disbelieving eyes on Lambert. “Adam.”

“You crossed a line,” Lambert told him. “Don’t do it again.”

Kris was surprised to see that Tommy and Monte were also giving Gokey varying looks of ‘behave or else’, and shooting looks of sympathy Kris’ way. Gokey looked like he wanted to say something else, but under Lambert’s heavy stare he bit his tongue and satisfied himself with dropping into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Michael still stood staring at Gokey, muscles bunched under Kris’ hand. “I still want to punch him,” he said, tacking on a, “Sir.”

“Maybe you’ll get the chance later,” Cowell said.

Kris didn’t think he was seeing things when the corners of Lambert’s lips twitched. Michael sat, but he made it clear that he was making the choice to sit, rather than to disobey his superior.

“What’s your cover story going to be?” Cowell asked Lambert.

“I started setting it up last night,” Lambert said. “Lonely guy flirting with the cute bartender.”

Gokey’s lips tightened into a thin line.

“You set the stage for that last night,” Cowell said, more a statement than a question.

“Yes.”

Kris held his breath, waiting for Adam to announce what else had happened between them, but he said nothing else. The silence went on for fucking ever. Michael glanced at Kris, but Kris kept his eyes trained straight ahead. Thankfully Michael didn’t say anything, though Kris figured he would as soon as they were alone.

Kris turned his head and looked at Cowell when he spoke Kris’ name.

“You alright with this?”

Kris wanted to say ‘no’, but he forced his lips and tongue to form the word ‘yes’. It came out sounding weak, so Kris cleared his throat and repeated it. Cowell gave him an intent look, and Kris prayed that he wouldn’t make a big deal out of his less than enthusiastic response. Finally he nodded.

“Okay. I think we’re done here.” Cowell looked at Lambert. “We’ll set up in here. Ryan will get us a board to use.” Cowell transferred his gaze to Seacrest, who nodded his acknowledgment of the task.

Cowell pushed his chair back, and stood. “Allen, I’d like to see you and Sarver in my office before you head back out there.”

Kris nodded and pushed his own chair back. He dropped his coffee cup into the trash as he passed it, nodded at Tommy, and followed Cowell and Seacrest out of the conference room. He felt Michael behind him, a comforting presence, and Lambert’s eyes burning a hole in to his back.

“Kris,” Lambert said. “We need to talk.”

“Later,” Kris said without looking back. What he really meant was, when hell freezes over.

Kris heard Monte ask Lambert, “What’s going on?” He was grateful that the door closed behind them before he had to hear Lambert’s answer.

“Close the door,” Cowell said as he crossed his office. He sat behind his desk, and Seacrest took up his usual position to the side of the desk, so Kris stopped in front of the desk, and Michael stood beside him after he pushed the door closed.

“What’s going on?” Cowell demanded without preamble.

Kris felt an hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest at the question. He managed to force it down and give a halfway believable, “What do you mean, sir?”

“You thought working with the Feds was a good idea, didn’t have a problem with the other agents, but you got awfully quiet when Lambert walked in.”

Kris wanted to argue that he was normally quiet, but the fact of the matter was he could get pretty opinionated when it was his life on the line. The fact that he’d meekly agreed to Lambert’s plan without making sure they’d covered every contingency of the cover was sort of uncharacteristic.

Kris waited for Michael to say something, but he remained a strong, silent presence at Kris’ side. He considered lying, but was smart enough to realize that there wasn’t just his own feelings of embarrassment and shame to consider. The cold, hard truth was that his having slept with Lambert without knowing who he was (though he’d known exactly who Kris was), was going to affect Kris’ ability to do his job.

“I slept with him,” Kris said. “Agent Lambert.”

“But you looked surprised to see him,” Cowell said.

“He didn’t tell you who he was,” Seacrest surmised.

“Ouch,” Cowell said, wincing.

Kris gave in to the hysterical laughter. “Succinctly put, sir.”

“Did you know about this?” Cowell addressed Michael.

“No, sir,” Michael said. “I did not know that Kris had slept with Agent Lambert.”

Cowell frowned and looked like he wanted to call Michael on his specific phrasing, but he let it go and turned back to Kris.

“You going to be able to do this?”

Kris wasn’t gonna lie, at least, not to himself. His chest felt like he’d been kicked by a mule, and his eyes burned with the tears he wanted to shed. But this was his job; he was good at it, and it was important to him. Besides, he hadn’t lied, he had worked with worse. His hurt feelings weren’t the most important thing here, getting Jackson and his drugs off the street was.

“Yes, sir,” Kris said.

Cowell gave Kris a searching look, then glanced at Michael. Kris wasn’t sure what he saw, but he finally nodded.

“I’m going to bring Desai and Giraud in on this. Sarver can bring them up to speed. That’s all.”

Michael stepped out of Cowell’s office with Kris. “You need to talk?”

“No,” Kris said without hesitating. The last thing he needed right now was to dwell upon just exactly how much of an idiot he’d been. Nearly three years of following his rule, and the one time he was tempted to the point of breaking it, it was for someone who lied to him, who used him. “I really, really don’t.”

“Alright,” Michael said. “If you change your mind . . . .”

“Thanks.” Kris wasn’t going to change his mind, but he appreciated the offer.

Kris left Michael to go find Anoop and Matt, and fill them in on the case, and headed for the back entrance. He was patting himself on the back for managing to avoid Lambert, when he heard the familiar voice call out his name. Kris ignored him the first couple of times, only stopping when it became clear that he wasn’t going to give up. And with his long legs Kris had little chance of escaping before Adam – Lambert, Kris reminded himself – caught up to him.

Kris turned around and tried to present Adam with a blank face. Given Adam’s reaction, Kris wasn’t sure he’d succeeded, but he hoped it was anger Adam saw, rather than the raw hurt clawing at Kris’ throat as it tried to work its way out.

“What can I do for you, Agent Lambert?” Kris said, and applauded himself for not letting his voice crack.

Adam winced at the use of his title. “Can we talk? Please.”

“What’s to talk about?” Kris said with a shrug. “You got what you wanted; your cover’s all set. Congratulations,” Kris added, thinking, no, that didn’t sound bitter at all.

“Kris, please, that’s not . . . .”

“You lied to me,” Kris said, and the irony of his situation wasn’t lost on him.

“Not about everything,” Adam said.

Kris tried to see the man he’d met last night, slept with, beneath the suit and slicked back hair. He couldn’t do it. He was almost grateful for that.

“I don’t believe you.”

~*~*~*~

Kris was glad he had to work that night. He’d already spent too many hours moping around his crappy apartment, writing maudlin lyrics in his head. He’d been acting so emo, he’d gotten sick of his own company. Plus, it was easy to forget about Adam in the rush of restocking the bar and serving the crowd that had showed up for happy hour. Until Adam himself showed up, that is.

Kris had known intellectually that he’d have to see Adam again, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon, or for it to feel like such a punch to the gut.

“What’s wrong?” Cale said, his voice so full of concern that Kris wondered what his face had revealed when he’d first seen Adam.

“Nothing,” Kris lied.

Unconvincingly, if the way Cale ignored his verbal response and turned to see what it was that Kris had seen was any indication.

Cale frowned at Kris. “Something happen?”

Kris blushed.

Cale chuckled and shook his head. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

Kris shook his head. “Nah. It’s just. You know what they say about things that seem too good to be true.”

“That they usually are?”

“Yeah,” Kris said, surprised by the way his throat closed up around the word, almost preventing it from escaping his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Cale said.

He sounded so sincere that Kris almost lost it. Instead he forced a laugh. “Not your fault, man.”

“So, he turned out to be kind of a jerk, huh?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“You want me to take care of him for you?”

Kris felt his eyes go so wide he figured they must take up half of his face. “What?”

“You want me to switch with you, take that end of the bar?”

“Oh,” Kris said. He wasn’t sure what he’d thought Cale had meant, but clearly his undercover work was messing with his mind. “Um, are you sure?”

Cale’s smile was pure evil. “Positive,” he said, and then moved to the other end of the bar.

Kris thought he should probably feel a little bit sorry for siccing Cale on Adam, but he didn’t.

~*~

“What did you tell him?” Adam hissed in his ear.

Kris nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Adam’s voice.

“What the hell, Adam?” Kris said, checking to make sure the stream had continued into the urinal and hadn’t anointed his sneakers.

Adam stood so close to Kris that he could feel the heat off his body. Or maybe it was the heat of his glower.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to pee here.”

Kris could see Adam fighting the urge to look. He lost; he glanced down, then returned his gaze to Kris’ face with a mulish expression that dared Kris to comment.

Kris rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell him anything,” he said as he tucked himself away and zipped up.

“You must have told him something,” Adam said. “He offered me a glass of absinthe.”

Kris barked out a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Kristopher,” Adam said. “He thinks I’m a jerk.”

“You are a jerk,” Kris said as he pushed past Adam to get to the sink. He watched Adam’s face in the mirror. His expression went sad and frustrated, and then blank.

“We have a job to do,” Adam said, his voice carrying no inflection. “How do you expect me to flirt with you if you won’t even come near me.”

Kris bought time by shoving his hands under the dryer, which was too loud to allow normal conversation. When the sound of the dryer faded away, he said, “You said you were going to flirt with a cute bartender, you didn’t say it had to be me. Give Cale a shot, he might be interested.”

“In skewering me on one of those little plastic swords,” Kris heard Adam mutter as the door closed between them.

Kris slid back behind the bar and easily slipped back into the motions of mixing and serving. He had to admit that he felt a little bit better after his verbal sparring with Adam.

When he and Cale were in the same vicinity, Kris said, “Absinthe?”

Cale’s wide grin was infectious, and Kris felt himself smiling as well. What the hell, Kris thought as he worked. It wasn’t the first time he’d met a guy and it hadn’t worked out. He could handle this. In fact, he was going to be fine.

Kris was feeling less fine an hour later, after watching Adam flirt with every guy in the bar.

“You alright?” Cale asked.

“Fine,” Kris said tersely.

“He’s just trying to make you jealous.”

“I’m not.”

It was just flirting, it was part of his cover, it didn’t mean anything. And Kris didn’t care anyway.

Kris couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in his ears when he saw a guy (liked to order drinks called ‘Suck My Cock’ and ‘I Want To Fuck You’, probably just to see if he could make Kris blush, but he’d gotten over that a long time ago), lead Adam to the back of the bar; to the bathroom maybe (the last stall was pretty popular, if the graffiti on the wall was any indication) or the alley (where Kris had gotten sucked off one rough night before reminding himself that you didn’t shit where you ate – it smelled like garbage, but you were usually thinking of other things at the time, and the smell didn’t register until after you were done).

Kris didn’t realize that the bottle he held had slipped from his grasp until Cale set it carefully on the bar.

“You okay?”

Fine, Kris thought, but he couldn’t make his lips or tongue work to form the word, so he nodded his head.

“You need some time?”

Kris shook his head.

“Why don’t you go get us another bottle of rum?”

Kris motioned towards the fully stocked shelves of liquor. “We’ve got a full one . . . .”

“We go through it pretty fast,” Cale said, giving Kris a little push. “Go on.”

Kris kept his head down as he hurried to the storage room. He unlocked the door and turned the light on from habit. He looked around at the boxes full of glass bottles, wishing there was something he could kick. He felt impotent in his rage, which made him even more angry.

And he didn’t understand any of it. He’d barely known Adam for 24 hours, for goodness sake. And sure, they’d slept together, but that didn’t make them soul mates, or anything, despite the connection he’d felt. Thought he’d felt. Maybe he needed to have sex more often, to keep from acting like a naive schoolboy who confused sex with . . . other feelings.

The sounds of the bar noise got louder when the door opened behind him.

“I’m fine,” Kris said without turning around, expecting that Cale had come to check on him.

“Kris.”

Every muscle in his body tensed when he heard Adam’s voice.

“Leave me alone, Adam.”

The door closed, but Kris knew without looking that Adam was not on the other side of it.

“I do not want to talk to you,” Kris said into the silence.

“Then just listen,” Adam said, adding, “Please.”

“You lied to me,” Kris said again, feeling like a broken record. He couldn’t believe how much it bothered him that Adam had lied to him. He needed to let it go, get over it.

“I know,” Adam said.

“If you tell me that you had to, I’m going to punch you,” Kris said through gritted teeth.

It was very possible that they should’ve hashed this out that afternoon, instead of Kris burying his head in the sand and telling himself he could handle it. Three years undercover, and he was going to let a broken heart trip him up? Not that his heart was broken. Bruised a little, maybe. No, his heart wasn’t even involved at all, just his pride. Yes, that was it, professional pride dictated that he be annoyed at being played so thoroughly.

“I didn’t have to,” Adam admitted, and all the fight whooshed out of Kris, leaving him feeling like he could cry. “I didn’t even have to check you out like I told your Chief today, I just couldn’t wait to meet you. You’re kind of a legend; they use the Alvarez case to teach how interagency cooperation can yield a successful closure.”

Kris snorted. “Apparently they got some of the facts wrong.”

“Danny’s an ass,” Adam said, as if reading Kris’ mind.

“Then why do you work with him?”

“Because he’s very good at his job.”

“He seems . . . .” Kris hesitated.

“Homophobic?”

“Yeah.”

It felt weird talking to Adam with his back to him, but Kris couldn’t make himself turn around.

“Oh, yeah, he totally thinks I’m going to hell.”

“They why does he work with you?”

“Because I’m good at _my_ job,” Adam said. “Danny doesn’t let his religious or personal beliefs interfere with his ambition,” he added wryly.

“It was weird, seeing you in a suit,” Kris said, trying to dredge up some of that righteous indignation he was so full of before.

Adam chuckled. “But I looked good, right?”

There it was, a tiny spark ignited by Adam making light of the way he could make Kris feel things he didn’t want to feel. At least, not anymore. Before Kris could work up a full head of steam, though, Adam returned to their previous topic of conversation. Kris hated that Adam could read him so well. It was his job to read other people, and he was doing a sucktastic job of it.

“I didn’t expect,” Adam said, speaking slowly, as if weighing every word. “You.”

Which was ridiculous, Kris thought, because he was exactly who Adam had supposedly wanted to see.

“For you to be so cute, and tiny, and southern. And perfect. I didn’t expect the . . . .” He paused, searching for the right word. “The connection I felt with you. And I did not *plan* on having sex with you. But I’ll be honest, I couldn’t resist. Even knowing it was going to come back and bite me in the ass, I couldn’t resist. I wanted to tell you this morning, but . . . ”

Adam was charming, and he lied for a living, Kris reminded himself. No matter how sincere he sounded now, spouting his pretty words, Kris shouldn’t trust him.

“I know you don’t believe me,” Adam said, reading Kris’ mind, or his body language, or just knowing what he needed to say to allay Kris’ suspicions. “But I have no reason to lie, not about this.”

“Your cover’s better if I cooperate,” Kris pointed out stubbornly.

“You ignoring me, and me trying to make you jealous was working pretty well.”

Kris went stiff when he remembered the guy Adam had left the bar with.

“I didn’t do anything with him.”

“Stop doing that!” Kris said. It was eery that Adam could read him so well. “And besides, I don’t care.”

Adam chuckled – it was both annoying and arousing. Kris shivered, and then again when Adam touched his shoulder.

“Whatever you say,” Adam purred, and then he was pressed up against Kris’ back, hand curling around his waist, tongue leaving a wet trail on his neck. Kris made a sound that he’d be embarrassed about if he had enough blood left in his brain to care.

“Christ, you’re maddening,” Adam said as his hand slid over Kris.

Kris moaned and pushed back against Adam. He let his head fall on Adam’s shoulder, and opened his neck to Adam’s mouth. Adam growled against Kris’ skin, and squeezed him through his jeans, and Kris thought it was ridiculous how much he needed this.

“Adam,” Kris moaned.

Adam swore against Kris’ throat and tore at the button and zip of his jeans.

“I need to get back to _work_ ,” Kris whined, but he did nothing to stop Adam’s hand from snaking its way beneath denim and cotton.

Kris whimpered as Adam stroked him, and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to push into Adam’s hand, or press back, feel him hard against his ass. His desperate need frustrated him, and reminded him that, “I’m still mad at you,” he said breathlessly.

“I know, baby,” Adam cooed in a tone Kris thought was meant to be soothing, but which sent shivers down his spine. “Let me make it up to you.”

Adam spun Kris around and leaned him against one of the shelves. Before Kris’ brain could even form the protest, Adam had yanked his jeans down and covered him with his mouth. Kris shoved the heel of his hand into his mouth to muffle the sounds he couldn’t help making.

His other hand dropped to Adam’s head. He buried his fingers in Adam’s hair and pulled. The harder he pulled, the harder Adam sucked, the harder he pulled. Kris hoped to god he came before he pulled Adam’s hair out. He sort of liked Adam’s hair, even if he was kind of a jerk.

As if his thoughts made it so, bright lights exploded behind his eyes, and then there was nothing. At first Kris felt like he was floating, but then he realized that he was leaning against Adam, who was supporting him.

“You’re so cute like this,” Adam said, sensing Kris’ return to the world.

Kris made a grumbly sound of denial in his throat, since he couldn’t feel his lips to even attempt to make them work.

“Come on, baby, you need to get back to work.”

Kris knew he did, he’d said so himself, but he was so comfy right now that he didn’t really want to move. And besides, Adam had just sucked his brain out his dick, how could he be possibly be expected to go right back to work?

“I got your pants up,” Adam said, ignoring Kris’ silent entreaty to stay right where he was, “but I couldn’t get ‘em zipped up because you turned into some kind of cuddly octopus.”

That comment got Kris moving. For some reason, the thought of Adam dressing him was more embarrassing than having Adam undress him. And blow him in the store room. Where anyone could’ve walked in on them.

Kris felt his cheeks go hot as he pushed away from Adam and tried to steady himself on his feet. He was thankful for the opportunity to duck his head as he fumbled with his fly. Of course his eyes were drawn to Adam, he was standing right there, close enough that Kris wouldn’t have to reach far to touch him.

“You, um, haven’t . . . ,” Kris said, not raising his head to look at Adam’s face.

“I will. Later,” Adam said, his voice heavy with promise.

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you,” Kris said, fighting back the flush, and viciously shutting up the voice that started to remind him that there was precedent for Adam’s presumption.

“Is it?” Adam said, and the back of Kris’ neck burned as he remembered how easily he’d let Adam . . . .

“Hey,” Adam said, drawing Kris out of his thoughts. He placed his hand beneath Kris’ chin and raised his face. “Oh, baby,” Adam said when he saw the emotions crossing Kris’ face.

Kris didn’t know how to feel. He should be stronger than the need he had for Adam, but it only took a look, the slightest touch, to make him forget everything else.

As if to prove Kris’ point, Adam kissed him. Kris pressed up against Adam and buried his fingers in Adam’s hair, and opened his mouth to Adam’s tongue. There was nothing for him in that moment except Adam.

Adam released him with a final quick kiss. “We’re in this together,” Adam said, and Kris wasn’t sure if he meant the assignment, or this . . . thing between them. Or both.

Kris wasn’t sure what he wanted Adam to mean.

~*~

Cale looked at him worriedly when Kris returned to the bar. “You alright?” he asked as Kris slipped past him.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Kris said, unable to look at Cale’s face, afraid that his expression would give away exactly *how* alright he was. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“That’s fine, as long as you’re okay.”

“I am.”

Kris cleared some empties off the bar and reached into the cooler for ice cold bottles to replace them.

“If it makes you feel any better, that guy came back without Adam, and he didn’t look happy,” Cale commented.

Kris tried not to feel smug about that, or to say anything about anyone getting any kind of happy. “Oh. That’s, um . . . .”

“What the heck is up with him?” Cale interrupted, and Kris was glad he didn’t have to come up with a neutral response.

Until he glanced up and saw who ‘him’ was. Adam had the biggest shit eating grin on his face that Kris had ever seen, and when he caught Kris’ eye, he winked.

“Are you kidding me?” Cale said dryly.

“Um . . . .”

“I thought you were mad at him!”

“I am mad at him,” Kris insisted.

“I thought he was a jerk!”

“He _is_ a jerk,” Kris muttered.

“Uh huh,” Cale said disbelievingly. “Says the guy who just did the, I don’t even want to know, in the stock room with him.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Kris said as he got out a clean glass and pulled a fresh beer from the tap.

Cale snorted.

“I’m serious! He ambushed me.”

Cale laughed so hard he had to grab his stomach, and Kris ducked his head as people (Adam) turned to stare at them. “Is that a euphemism?” Cale said when he could finally speak again.

“No! And he apologized.”

Cale raised an eyebrow. “And you believed him?”

“He was very persuasive,” Kris said. He glared at Cale when he laughed again, and said, “Well, he was.”

Cale shook his head. “I’m guessing that you have no objection to working that end of the bar now?”

Kris glanced down at Adam as Cale walked away chuckling. He took his time refilling drinks as he moved to the end of the bar where Adam sat, still grinning. Kris crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Adam, which just made his grin go even wider.

“Wipe that silly grin off your face,” Kris said. “People are going to talk.”

“I can’t,” Adam said, grinning like he didn’t care about that failure. “I’ve tried. Watch.”

Adam forced his face into a blank mask. It lasted for about five seconds before the grin began to reform. Kris shook his head and tried not to let a matching grin split his face.

“You might as well be wearing a neon sign that says . . . .” Kris paused as he realized that their conversation wasn’t exactly private. “Things a neon sign shouldn’t be saying,” he finished.

Adam gave a delighted laugh. “You are seriously so cute, I could eat you up.”

Kris flushed, and only just managed to keep from reminding Adam that he had actually done that already. If the way Adam’s laugh went deep and husky was any indication, Adam read the thoughts right off his face.

“You are so very, very dead,” Kris said, and then gave Adam a very wide, fake smile.

The grin fell off Adam’s face. “Wow, scary.”

“Do you want a drink?” Kris asked, his tone reflecting how very dead Adam was going to be.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Adam said. “Yes, I’d love a . . . .”

Kris ignored Adam and started randomly pulling bottles down off the shelf. He flipped Cale off when he said, “Did you remember the rum?”

Kris poured and mixed until he had created a concoction of the most bilious green color. He almost felt bad setting it in front of Adam. Almost.

Adam eyed the glass nervously. “What is it?”

“Your drink,” Kris said in the same tone his mother used to say, “You’re going to eat it, and you’re going to like it.”

Adam took a tentative sip. He grimaced when the liquid hit his tongue, and then shuddered after he swallowed it.

“It’s . . . interesting,” he said. It took a few seconds for his eyes to uncross and meet Kris’. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

Adam sounded so defeated (and in the face of having to finish that drink, Kris would’ve, too), that Kris felt bad.

“Just a little bit,” Kris admitted. “Here, give me that. Let me get you something else.”

“No!” Adam said, pulling the glass out of Kris’ reach. “I’m going to finish it.” He gave Kris a determined look. “It’s like . . . my penance. But if I do.” He clutched at Kris’ hand. “You won’t be mad at me anymore, right?”

“You don’t have to finish it,” Kris said.

“Just.” Adam gave a little shudder. “Promise me.”

Kris rolled his eyes at Adam’s dramatics. “Fine, I promise. But you don’t have to.”

“Go,” Adam shooed Kris away. “I’m not sure I can do this if you’re watching me.”

“Okay,” Kris agreed. “Just don’t dump it in the plant. It’s plastic, but that might still kill it.”

Adam sputtered something Kris couldn’t make out as he walked away and returned to work. Kris was back to pouring and mixing drinks for paying customers when Cale stopped beside him.

“What the heck did you make him?”

Kris didn’t have to look to know Cale was talking about Adam.

“I have no idea,” Kris admitted, “but it looked pretty disgusting.”

“Tastes pretty disgusting, too, I’m guessing,” Cale said as he watched Adam. “Wow,” he said, sounding kind of impressed. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.” He glanced back down the bar and shook his head. “Must be love,” he said in fascinated wonder.

Kris took his eyes off the drink he was preparing to look at Adam, who had a determined grimace on his face as he placed the glass to his lips. He closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear looking at the drink that would soon be touching his tongue. Kris sighed. It was pitiful, really.

Kris served the drink and then dug a Corona out of the cooler. He popped the top and stuck a wedge of lime in the mouth. He carried the bottle to the end of the bar, snatched the glass away from Adam before he realized what Kris was up to, and plunked the bottle down in front of him.

“Drink it,” Kris said, dumping the other down the sink before Adam could ask for it back.

“I could kiss you,” Adam said, his voice full of relief.

“Drink first,” Kris said. There was no way he wanted to know what that drink had tasted like, even second hand.

Adam raised the bottle to his lips without taking his eyes off Kris. Kris shivered in anticipation at the promise in Adam’s eyes. Adam licked his lips as he set the bottle down, then leaned across the bar. Kris didn’t even have to go up on his toes to meet Adam’s mouth.

The kiss ended too soon (they parted due to the catcalls as much as the need to breathe), but Kris knew (and not just because Adam’s eyes promised it), that the night was far from over.

~*~*~*~

Adam walked Kris home after his shift. They hadn’t had to discuss it – Kris had walked over to Adam after he’d finished wiping down the bar, Adam had taken his hand and they’d walked out of the club together. As with the night before, the walk to Kris’ apartment was made in silence, but unlike that night Adam didn’t stop Kris to pull him in close and kiss him.

Kris found himself wishing that Adam would. He thought about doing it himself, just pulling Adam to a halt and licking into his surprised mouth. They reached his apartment before Kris worked up the nerve to make the move. He unlocked the door and let them in, then closed the door behind him and made sure it was locked. The door wouldn’t keep anyone out if they were determined, but it was habit.

Adam had taken a few steps into the apartment and stopped. His hair stood up from where he’d run his fingers through it. “So,” he said with a strained smile when he finally let Kris catch his eyes. “We should probably talk.”

They could. In fact, they probably _should_. Talk. Hash it all out. Or they could have sex.

Kris dropped the keys on the floor and leapt for Adam, who caught him easily, though he staggered a bit at the unexpectedness of it.

“Later,” Kris said as he clung to Adam’s shoulders and crushed their mouths together.

Adam made a surprised sound, but then he got on board, parting his lips and bringing his tongue out to slide along Kris’. Kris bit Adam’s tongue, then sucked on it, and followed it back into Adam’s mouth. They kissed, each chasing and giving up the lead, until they had to break for air.

“Are you sure?” Adam panted against Kris’ lips. “Kris . . . .”

“Yes . . . Adam.”

Kris tugged Adam’s hair until he obediently tilted his head back to give Kris access to his throat. Kris dragged his tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin, then sucked his mark just beneath Adam’s jaw.

Adam gasped and stumbled forward a step until Kris’ back hit the door. The impact brought their hips together. Kris moaned and arched, rocking his hips into Adam’s. Adam’s groan vibrated through Kris’ body.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” Adam agreed breathlessly.

~*~

Before he fell asleep, Kris remembered to check his phone. Michael had texted him. After the meeting earlier that day (yesterday, now), Kris wasn’t surprised that Michael was checking up on him.

 _tom, same time, place, hope work went okay_

Kris quickly typed back, _fine, c u then_

Kris was too worn out from everything that had happened that day – the meeting, discovering the truth about Adam – and frankly, too fucked out, to worry too much about having to tell Michael that he and Adam had . . . had reconciled? Reached an agreement? Couldn’t keep their hands off each other?

“Oh my god, how can you even think after that?” Adam said.

Kris couldn’t, really; he didn’t know why he was even trying. He set his phone on the night stand and curled into Adam.

~*~

Kris slept better than he could remember in the three years since he’d gone under. He even woke up before his phone alarm went off, thanks to Adam’s mouth (his very, _very_ talented mouth), sliding up and down his dick. Kris would’ve even been early for his meeting with Michael if Adam hadn’t insisted on joining him in the shower (not that Kris protested much. Or at all), and then argued that he should attend the meeting with him.

Kris eventually gave in, but only because he was already going to be late after their shared shower, and it didn’t look like Adam was going to back down. Kris worried about Michael’s reaction to seeing Adam again, to hearing that Kris and Adam had kissed and made up, in a manner of speaking. Or literally, whatever.

Adam took his hand and tugged him in. “It’ll be fine,” Adam said, and he sounded so sure of it that Kris wanted to believe him.

Adam transferred Kris’ hand to his other hand so he could drape his arm across Kris’ shoulders. It felt so good being held, surrounded by Adam, that Kris decided to stop worrying, at least for the few minutes it took them to walk to the café. Adam pressed a kiss to the side of Kris’ head, and it just felt so _right_.

Michael spotted them before Kris saw him. Kris could tell by the fact that normally smiling lips were pressed into a thin line. Kris slipped out from under Adam’s arm, but kept hold of his hand as he led the way to the table Michael had chosen.

“Sleep late again?” Michael said, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Adam.

“Actually, we got up before the alarm went off,” Adam said.

Kris blushed, and elbowed Adam in the side. Michael’s eyes narrowed.

“Michael,” Kris said before either of them could speak again. “You remember Adam; Adam, this is my friend, Michael.”

Kris emphasized the word ‘friend’, and hoped that Adam would settle down. Adam held out his hand to Michael.

“We didn’t have a chance to meet properly yesterday.”

Kris held his breath, waiting to see how Michael would respond. Michael looked at Adam’s hand, and then pushed himself to his feet. He took Adam’s hand, but instead of giving it the usual shake and release, held on to it.

“I don’t like what you did to Kris,” Michael said, and Kris felt the blood rushing to the surface of his skin, “but you knocked that douchebag Gokey down a peg, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t make me regret it.”

Instead of taking offense, Adam smiled widely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

Michael rolled his eyes, but he released Adam’s hand and sat back down. “I didn’t know Kris was bringing a friend, or I’d have ordered something for you.”

“No worries,” Adam said, “I’ve got it. I might need a double shot. Kristopher refused to make me coffee this morning.”

“We were running late!” Kris said, and then flushed when he remembered _why_ they’d been running late.

Which was exactly what Adam had intended, Kris realized when Adam grinned at him before pressing a kiss to his ear and heading for the door.

“Ass,” Kris muttered affectionately, pitching his voice so Adam could hear him.

Adam laughed, and waved over his shoulder without looking back. Kris turned to Michael, who was studying him with an expression of amusement and concern. Kris ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

“So.”

“So,” Michael repeated. “Anything you want to tell me? Not the details, geeze!” he added at Kris’ expression.

“Adam and I talked . . . .”

“Is that what you crazy kids are calling it these days?”

Kris snorted, then smirked. “I thought you didn’t want any details?”

“I don’t!”

Kris chuckled as he pulled out a chair and sat down. He drew his coffee cup closer and took a grateful sip.

“I hate to burst any bubbles here,” Michael said, waiting until Kris had set his cup back down on the table before speaking, “but are you going to be able to do this?”

Kris raised his eyebrows. “Work with Adam?”

“The operative word being ‘work’,” Michael said. He leaned forward. “You like him.”

Kris opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn’t sure what, but Michael bulldozed over him.

“You like him,” Michael said again. “He’s supposed to be your partner in this, your back up. He’s going to be a distraction.” Michael leaned back in his chair, sighed. “I’m only saying what Cowell is going to say. Only nicer.”

Kris huffed his agreement of that. He knew that Michael was right, their relationship wasn’t just a cover anymore, at least not for Kris. Kris would worry about Adam more than he should, would perhaps be thinking about Adam when he should be concentrating on the case, but  
they’d made their bed (no pun intended, and also figuratively speaking, because they hadn’t had time to make Kris’ bed that morning).

Taking Adam out of the picture and introducing another undercover agent at this point, even as just a friend, would be too dangerous. Still, Kris couldn’t bring himself to be sorry it had happened.

“What did I miss?” Adam said as he set his cup on the table and pulled out the chair beside Kris.

Kris glanced at Michael, but he could tell that Michael wasn’t going to place Kris in an awkward position by voicing his concerns to Adam. Still, they were valid and needed to be acknowledged, if not addressed.

“Michael’s concerned that we’ll be too distracted to do our jobs,” Kris said.

Adam sipped his coffee before responding. “I can see where he’d be concerned; you _are_ rather distracting.”

“Me!” Kris sputtered.

Adam just grinned and took another sip of coffee before tuning a more serious expression on Michael. “Your concern is duly noted. The case is, of course, our first priority. Neither Kris nor I would do anything to jeopardize that.”

Michael studied Adam, and then snorted. “Nicely done. I almost believe you.”

“I’m perfectly serious,” Adam said. “Neither one of us would compromise the case . . . .”

“Not intentionally,” Michael agreed. “Look, just make sure nothing happens to Kris, otherwise we’re gonna have more than words.”

“I can take care of myself,” Kris said, but neither one of them paid him any attention.

“Nothing will happen to Kris, you have my word.”

Michael weighed Adam’s promise, then nodded. Kris sighed and slumped back into his chair, consoling himself with caffeine.

“What about me?” Kris muttered. “Don’t I have to promise to keep Adam safe?”

Adam glanced at Kris over his coffee cup, eyes full of tolerant affection.

“You might get your chance,” Michael said. “Cowell’s called another meeting. He wants to know how last night went before he leaves you both out there.”

Kris felt himself blushing, but could do nothing to stop it.

“Not that,” Michael said, shaking his head. “I already told you, no details. And probably the less Cowell knows, the better.”

Michael glanced meaningfully at their joined hands. Kris didn’t even remember letting go of his cup to grasp Adam’s hand, but he had no intention of letting go.

“We’ll be completely professional,” Adam assured Michael.

Michael snorted again, and finished his drink. “I’ll meet you there,” he said, standing. “Three of us dodging a tail might be too conspicuous.”

Michael held out his hand, and Adam took it. They watched Michael walk away, and then Adam pulled Kris’ chair closer. He bent his head and brought their faces nearly together.

“I meant what I said,” Adam told Kris, “about doing our job, and about keeping you safe. But I hope you don’t think I’m going to stop fucking you.”

Kris shivered, and made a sound that Adam swallowed.

“Good,” Kris said when Adam released his lips.

The case was important, Kris knew that, getting the drugs off the street, putting the suppliers behind bars, but he deserved this, after three years of lies and loneliness, he deserved a little bit of happiness.

~*~

“How’d it go last night?” Cowell said without beating around the bush.

Kris was prepared for the question, so he didn’t blush. “Fine.”

At Cowell’s expression of disbelief, Kris said, “We talked, Agent Lambert and I, and we came to a . . . understanding.”

It was all Kris could do to keep the lie (and the blush) off his face when Michael choked beside him. Cowell’s eyes moved to Michael.

“I may have mentioned,” Michael said, “that if anything happened to Kris I was holding him personally responsible.”

Cowell nodded. “Good.”

Kris sighed. “I can take care of myself. I _have_ been for three years.”

Cowell barely spared him a glance before dismissing them.

Michael walked beside Kris to the conference room. He stepped in front of Kris and opened the door, ushering him in as if he thought Kris might need protection from whomever was inside.

All conversation ceased when the door opened. Kris peeked around Michael and found Adam, who gave him a small smile, just for him. Kris smiled back, and then he was accosted by Matt and Anoop, asking him how he was doing, and sounding excited to have been pulled in on the case. While they told him what they’d been doing, a lot of paper work and research Kris was glad he didn’t have to do, Kris studied the photos tacked to the board. Kris’ gaze was drawn back to Jennifer Lopez; she was a beautiful woman, but her eyes were hard as diamonds.

“Word has it she is one cold bitch,” Tommy said from beside him.

“I can believe it,” Kris said, quickly recovering from his surprise that Tommy had joined him.

“He’s just a figurehead.” Tommy pointed to Marc Anthony. “He’s the brains.” Jackson. “And she likes to pull the trigger. These are not nice people.”

“They rarely are.”

Tommy turned his considering gaze on Kris. “It’s good that you and Adam worked things out.”

Kris froze for a second, and then he stammered, “Well, you know, the job . . . .”

“Very important,” Monte said, “the job.”

Kris jumped when Monte appeared at his other side. “Yeah,” he agreed, trying not to fidget.

“Adam can be a pain in the ass, but he’s a great guy.”

“Uhm . . . .”

“What are you two doing?” Adam said.

“Discussing the case with Kris,” Tommy said, and if Kris hadn’t been standing right there during whatever that had been, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the half-truth.

“What else would we be doing?” Monte said.

“What else, indeed?” Adam replied dryly. “Did you happen to mention that Anthony and the Ice Queen were in town while you were discussing the case with Kris?”

“We were just getting to that,” Monte said, sounding so serious that even Kris almost believed him.

Kris had gone into this assignment focused, had kept his eyes open for the smallest sign that something was off, but he had to admit that the longer he’d been under with zero activity, he’d begun to believe that there was nothing to find, and though he’d continued to do his job, he’d allowed his focus to waver. Now, knowing that Jackson had purchased the club, and that his partners were in town to take over the running of it, Kris felt his focus sharpen. He needed to be on his toes; they both did. Kris glanced at Adam and saw the same determination on his face.

“You ready to go get ‘em?” Adam said.

“Ready,” Kris said.

“Hey,” Matt called from the other end of the conference room where he and Anoop were going over files. “You two be careful out there.”

~*~*~*~

As they walked back to Kris’ apartment, Kris had to remind himself that they were undercover as boyfriends (or at least, as two guys who were sleeping together), and that it was safe, okay, even, to touch him in public when Adam reached for his hand. They stopped for takeout that they had to reheat after they let it grow cold when Adam crowded Kris against the tiny kitchen counter and started something that Kris insisted he finish. After sex and food Kris napped while Adam returned to his apartment for a bag of clothes (and an even larger bag of hair product and make up that was no way going to fit in Kris’ bathroom, even if they removed the toilet, which Kris didn’t really want to have to do).

Now that it looked like things were turning serious with the case, Adam refused to leave Kris alone even long enough to sleep or shower in his own apartment. Kris thought Adam was taking his role as backup a little too seriously, but since he liked the idea of having him around, he didn’t voice that opinion out loud. And also because he didn’t want the lecture Adam would probably give him.

Cale didn’t look the slightest bit surprised when Adam walked into the club with Kris that night. He nodded a greeting to Adam, then told Kris, “Something’s up.”

Kris followed the direction Cale indicated with a tilt of his head and saw Todd, the manager that had hired him, sitting in a booth with two other people. Kris immediately recognized them as Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez from the photos he’d seen, but he just raised an eyebrow and asked, “Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” Cale said, keeping a curious eye on them even as he stocked beer in the cooler, “but rumor has it this place has been sold. Maybe they’re the new owners.”

They worked as they talked, and Kris kept sneaking glances towards the booth. “You think they’re gonna make any changes to the staff?”

That was actually something Kris hadn’t considered before, but now that he had, it was worrying.

Cale shrugged. “Even if they do, you’re probably safe.”

“How do you figure?”

Cale snorted. “You’re a draw. Half the guys that come in here hope they might have a chance at your twink ass.”

Kris choked. “My what! You’re an ass,” he said when Cale just laughed.

Kris grabbed a Corona out of the cooler and walked away from Cale with as haughty an air as he could manage.

“The service around here sucks,” Adam said when Kris set the Corona and lime in front of him. “Good thing the bartender is cute.”

Kris flushed. He and Adam had been naked together on several occasions – they’d had sex in the _storage room_ – and Kris still blushed when Adam called him cute. It was embarrassing.

“Sorry.”

“Just kidding,” Adam said after he’d taken a sip of the beer. “Though not about the cute thing.”

“Stop that. Cale was just telling me he thinks the club’s been sold,” Kris told Adam. “He thinks that’s them, the new owners, talking to Todd.”

“Hmm,” Adam said, eyes moving towards the booth without Kris having to point them out, which meant that Adam had already spotted them.

“I need to be on my best behavior tonight,” Kris warned. “I don’t want to get fired.”

Adam pouted, but Kris could tell that he was ‘on duty’ now, and just going through the flirting motions. Kris knew what it felt like to have all of Adam’s attention focused on him, and this was the watered down version.

“Does that mean no sex on your break?”

Kris was pretty glad for the watered down version right then. It allowed him to keep his voice steady when he said, “Aww, man, you’re not even trying now.”

Adam grinned at him, and for a moment it was all Adam. Kris went up on his toes and bussed Adam’s lips before returning to work, which meant serving drinks while trying to keep an eye on the new owners. He was glad Adam was there to catch things Kris wouldn’t, not if he wanted to keep his cover, as well as his job.

With so much on his mind, Kris’ shift passed quickly. Before they left, Todd told Kris and Cale to come in early the next day for a meeting before they opened.

“Tomorrow’s my day off,” Kris said, as he would have if bartending at the club was his actual job and he wasn’t chomping at the bit to meet Anthony and Lopez.

“Meeting’s mandatory for everyone,” Todd said before moving off.

Kris told Adam about the meeting on their walk home, and then forgot all about it when Adam started tugging at his clothes. They slept late. Kris only got up when the sun and his bladder combined forces to compel him out of bed. When he finished in the bathroom he found his jeans (he didn’t know how they’d gotten on top of the television in the living room, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know) and dug out his cell phone so he could text Michael and set up a meeting for later that afternoon.

Adam was awake when Kris returned to the bedroom. He lured Kris back to bed and they didn’t get out until a couple hours later when their stomachs insisted on being filled. They showered and got breakfast (or, as other people might call it, lunch), and then walked together to Kris’ meet with Michael.

It didn’t take long to fill Michael in on what had happened at the club last night, but Kris knew that everyone would be glad to know they would no longer be sitting on their butts, twiddling their thumbs, just waiting for something to happen.

Once business was over they sat there, finishing their coffees and talking about normal things – Michael’s family, sports, movies, and finally, a topic they each knew a little bit about, music. Adam brushed his thumbs over Kris’ guitar calluses as they talked, and when he finally said, “Will you play for me?” it sounded almost too intimate for their location.

~*~

When it was time for Kris to head to his meeting at the club, they all separated – Michael to the station with what little new information Kris had given him, Adam to a meeting with Monte, and Kris to He’s All That. Adam gave Kris a kiss and told him to wait at the club for him after the meeting.

Kris wasn’t late, but he was the last one to arrive. They all waited in near silence to hear what was going on. Kris wondered if he and Cale were the only ones to have an inkling, and then wondered whether Anthony and Lopez would keep all the employees on, or replace them with their own people. After ten minutes of fidgeting, Kris got Cale’s attention and tilted his head towards the bar.

Along with David Cook, the other bartender on duty that night, they stocked bottles and glasses, ice and garnish, and seeing the three of them in action got the others moving. Setting up, even if it wasn’t your shift, was better than just sitting there waiting for the proverbial axe to fall. When Todd, Anthony and Lopez finally appeared, the club was ready to open. Todd looked around appreciatively, and then gathered them all together.

Neither Anthony nor Lopez seemed to notice the work the employees had done before the meeting, and Kris didn’t think they’d care if they had. Though he bet the Ice Queen would’ve noticed if they weren’t ready to open on time, and then heads would roll even though it had been they who had held them up by being late for the meeting.

Todd didn’t waste any time; he introduced Anthony and Lopez as the new owners of the club, and then stood back and let them have the floor. Anthony assured everyone that nothing was going to change; that Todd would remain on as the manager, and they had no plans to replace any of the staff.

Lopez immediately punctured the balloon of relief anyone felt after that assurance by telling them that they would be meeting with each of the employees individually to determine their ‘fit’ with the club. Kris didn’t miss the barely hidden glare Anthony sent Lopez as she shot holes in his authority. Kris wondered if there was a rift there that could be exploited.

When they were finished Todd took the floor again. He thanked everyone for coming in and for getting the club ready to open, then dismissed them. Everyone who wasn’t working breathed a sigh of relief and fled, except for Kris, who took a seat at the end of the bar to wait for Adam.

Cale brought Kris a beer and stayed to chat, since there was still a couple minutes before Todd would turn down the lights, turn on the music, and unlock the front door so Jake could set his stool outside to check IDs. It would be a few minutes after that before the place got too busy to allow conversation.

Cook was working the other end of the bar. Kris didn’t know him as well as he knew Cale, who he was normally partnered with behind the bar, and who tended to ignore Kris’ desire to not make friends. Cook had been the one to train Kris when he’d first been hired, but now their paths only crossed occasionally. Cook had been the lead bartender until he’d gotten a singing gig somewhere, and now he just filled in a couple times a week when it was Kris’ or Cale’s night off.

The one thing Kris did know was that Cook had a boyfriend who sometimes showed up to sit at the bar while Cook was working. He looked twelve, but Kris knew that he was nineteen and had come to LA to go to college. In fact, the first time Kris had seen David (David Archuleta, not Cook, and wouldn’t that be confusing in bed? Not that Kris had ever imagined them in bed, either together or separately.) sitting at the bar he’d asked him for ID despite the stamp on his hand that said he’d been ID’d at the door and allowed admittance, even if he was too young to be served alcohol.

David had obliged Kris by handing over his license and was kind enough to not say anything even as Kris studied it to determine if it was a fake. If it was, it was a damned good one. Before Kris could hand the license back Cook had appeared, leaning over the bar to give David a kiss, and then setting a glass of (what Kris later learned was) iced tea in front of him. Actual iced tea, with, you know, ice. And tea. Not a drop of alcohol to be found.

Kris found himself blushing as he slid the license back across the bar to David, but both he and Cook looked more amused than insulted.

“You’re not flirting with the new bartender, are you, Arch?” Cook had asked.

Kris’ blush had gone fire engine red, but luckily neither one of them were paying him any attention because they were too focused on each other. (Kris later found out that Cook and David had met in a similar fashion, when Cook had asked to see his ID before serving him the caffeine free soda he’d ordered.)

“What? Cook, oh my gosh, no!” David said, and then Cook had laughed and given him another kiss before winking at Kris and returning to work.

“Sorry about that,” Kris said when they were alone.

“Oh, no, don’t be sorry; you were just doing your job.”

Every time David came in, Kris made a point to say hi. In return, David told Kris how his classes were going, and enthused about Cook’s gigs. Kris lectured himself before each shift he worked with Cook; he wasn’t there to make friends, because once this assignment was over he’d be moving on. Still, David’s smile was kinda hard to resist.

~*~

Kris knew the moment Adam entered the club. Even over the voices and music and flashing lights Kris could sense him. He turned on his stool and found Adam’s head in the crowd, watched him make his way straight to Kris as if they were connected by a string. Adam smiled when he caught sight of Kris. When he got close enough, he wrapped his arms around Kris, and then found his mouth.

Kris forgot where they were as he curled his leg around Adam’s and returned the kiss. Ending the kiss had more to do with breathing (and Kris getting a little more worked up than he wanted to be at the place he worked, even if it was a club), than Cale suggesting they get a room. Kris slid his arms around Adam beneath the leather jacket he wore, and pressed his face to the soft material of Adam’s t-shirt, and just breathed him in.

Kris pulled away when he finally realized that Adam hadn’t been alone. Adam’s arm around his back didn’t allow him to get far, though.

Adam said, “You remember Monte,” as if they hadn’t just been making out in front of him.

“Uh, yeah,” Kris said, blushing as he reached out to shake Monte’s hand. “How you doing, man?”

“Good,” Monte said. “You?”

Only the twitch of his lips gave away his amusement as Kris blushed even harder. Kris introduced Monte to Cale when he came down to take their drink orders, thankful for the distraction.

Monte claimed that he had to use the restroom after they’d finished their drinks, quickly checking out the layout for himself, Kris knew, and then the three of them said goodbye to Cale and left. Monte and Adam said goodbye on the sidewalk with some complicated handshake that made Kris’ head hurt. They waited while Monte got on his motorcycle and drove off before heading towards Kris’ apartment.

It felt strange, walking home before the sun had set. It was as if most of their relationship took place in the dark. Kris slipped his hand into Adam’s just because he could. Adam smiled at him, but Kris could tell that part of his mind was still back at the club. He was proved right when they stepped into Kris’ apartment and Adam’s first words, once the door was closed and locked, were, “What did you think?”

Kris was, quite understandably, slow to respond, since Adam was busy pushing his shirt up. “Um, about getting naked?”

“About the Anthony-Lopezes,” Adam said, both patient and amused.

“I think there’s trouble in paradise,” Kris said, voice muffled by his shirt as he helped Adam pull it off over his head.

“Awesome,” Adam said. “Tell me all about it later.”

“Okay,” Kris breathlessly agreed.

~*~

Kris got his interview with the Anthony-Lopez’s, as Adam called them, two nights later. He’d hoped to get it over with right away, but had instead spent an entire shift on pins and needles, expecting to get the call at any moment. Anthony was seated behind the desk, Lopez on the couch, her legs crossed, short skirt showing off shapely calf and thighs. It might have been enough to fluster Kris if he’d been interested in the female form. As it was, it still caught him slightly off guard, which he supposed was the purpose.

The application he’d filled out four weeks ago was on the desk in front of Anthony, perfectly centered on the blotter.

“Todd has nothing but good things to say about you,” Anthony led off.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kris said evenly.

“He says you’re good at your job.”

“I’ve had some practice,” Kris allowed. He’s All That wasn’t his first bartending gig.

“Your last job was at a bookstore,” Anthony noted.

Kris shrugged. “Something I hadn’t tried, yet.”

It had in fact been the cover for a smuggling operation; small gems tucked away inside hollowed out books.

“You’ve had a lot of jobs since you moved to LA,” Lopez interjected.

Kris watched Anthony’s lips tighten into a thin line before answering.

“I hadn’t found the right fit yet,” Kris said.

“And you have now?” Anthony said, wrenching back control of the interview.

“Well, I’ve found something I didn’t have before,” Kris admitted, and let himself blush, figuring it would help sell the truth, in this case, rather than the lie.

“How’d it go?” Cale asked when Kris returned to the front of the club.

“Okay, I guess,” Kris said. “They didn’t fire me on the spot, so that’s good, right?”

When Adam asked later, a street light outside throwing a splash of light across tangled legs and the sweat drying on their skin, Kris told him everything about the meeting, including the allusion to their relationship. Adam didn’t say anything about it immediately, but he stroked his hand up and down Kris’ back.

They finished discussing the Anthony-Lopezes – what they thought they were up to, how they might be able to get closer to them – and Adam pushed Kris to his back, moved over him.

“I’ve found something, too,” Adam said.

Kris opened his arms and his legs, and welcomed Adam into his body, his heart.

~*~

A week went by and nothing seemed to change. The Anthony-Lopezes finished interviewing the employees and no one got fired. No new faces appeared in the club as evidence that they were bringing in members of their own organization. Neither Kris nor Adam (nor Monte or Tommy on the few occasions they dropped by with Adam) saw any indication that they’d begun selling drugs out of the club.

(The one time Kris warned Adam that Cowell wouldn’t be pleased if he discovered that Adam had introduced Monte and Tommy into the undercover element of their operation, Adam had said, “Cowell can kiss my ass,” and then he’d rolled Kris to his stomach and proceeded to thoroughly kiss _his_ ass. Kris was completely and totally distracted from that line of thought, and each time after that he’d thought to mention it, he’d blushed too hard to get the words out.)

Todd and the Anthony-Lopezes could often be seen surveying the club from the booth they’d claimed in the raised section of the club. A small area had been closed off from the regular patrons, and designated the ‘VIP’ section. Kris thought they might be conducting business up there, but the few times he’d been asked to bring up a tray of drinks he hadn’t recognized the men sharing the table as any of those fronting the drug organizations in the LA area.

Under cover of dropping by to see Kris, and getting bored of sitting there, Adam had been able to study the various groups in the VIP section, but the lighting had been too poor for him to get pictures on his cell that they could run through the facial recognition program.

The next time they’d met with Michael after passing along the information to Monte (they’d started alternating who they met with now that the stakes were higher, as well as the meeting places), he gave Kris a necklace.

“Wow, man, you shouldn’t have,” Kris said.

Michael rolled his eyes. “It’s a camera.”

Michael showed Kris how to use the camera, and Kris started wearing it that night. The next time he had to deliver drinks to the VIP section, they’d hopefully get some clear photos.

Lopez took to sitting at the bar like the Queen surveying her domain when she wasn’t in the VIP section, or ensconced in the office. She barely spoke to them, as if they were beneath her notice, but Kris could feel her eyes on him, and it gave him the creeps. Still, he’d had to deal with creepy people touching him with more than their eyes, so he could handle this. It didn’t hurt that he had Adam’s smiles to shore him up, and his kisses to wash the bad taste of having to deal with people like the Anthony-Lopezes out of his mouth.

Kris wore the camera pendant every night to the club (and only once forgot to turn it off when they got home), and they’d been able to ID several of the men the Anthony-Lopezes had been meeting with. Kris hadn’t recognized their faces because they weren’t the top dogs in LA, or even their seconds. They were from further down the line, which could only mean that the Anthony-Lopezes were trying to undermine the drug trafficking in LA, possibly even take over the entire operation. Whether they succeeded or not, a lot of people were going to die in the attempt.

Another week went by without anything happening beside the meetings. Adam decided to take things into his own hand. He told Kris to take a break and dragged him to the back of the club. Kris expected Adam to push him into the bathroom, or the storage room, or even out into the alley, as bad as it smelled, but he stopped at the office door and said, “Keep an eye out.”

“Adam, what, what are you, oh, god,” Kris said as Adam withdrew a set of lock picks from his jeans (tight, tight jeans, how did they even fit in his pocket?) and began to pick the office lock.

Kris glanced back behind them. Any second someone was going to have to use the bathroom, or, heck, the alley. “Hurry,” he said, but Adam was already pushing the door open.

Adam slipped inside and pulled Kris with him. He made sure the door was locked so no one could catch them by surprise, and then he crossed the room and turned on the desk lamp.

“What are we looking for?” Kris hissed.

“Anything,” Adam said calmly, sitting behind the desk and opening the laptop. “Password locked,” he said with a frown. “An extra set of books, a list of names, an outline of their entire plan . . . ,” Adam said as he pulled out desk drawers.

Kris snorted, but he followed Adam’s lead and checked the file cabinet. Adam made a happy noise when he encountered a locked drawer. Kris was used to those kind of noises being made under other, more pleasurable circumstances, so his body automatically responded. Adam chuckled as Kris rearranged himself in his jeans, without even taking his eyes off the lock he was picking.

“Well, well,” Adam said, and then pulled out his iPod (which had a small camera hidden inside it) and started snapping photos.

Kris gave up his search – the fire cabinet only held files related to the running of the club – and went over to help Adam. He opened folders and flipped pages while Adam took pictures. They didn’t have time to read anything, or even speculate on what they were seeing.

Kris kept checking his watch, worried that he’d been gone too long and someone would come looking for him. No one did, and when they had the files back in the drawer, and Adam’s heretofore unknown talent with lock picks had the drawer locked again, Kris started to relax. Which, of course, is when they heard a key in the lock.

They both turned their heads towards the door comically, and then Adam moved. He switched off the lamp, grabbed Kris and practically carried him over to the couch. He dumped Kris on the cushions, and then fell on him, though he was kind enough to not knock all the air out of Kris’ lungs. Kris was not so kind; in the melee he accidentally elbowed Adam in the ribs.

Adam had his mouth on Kris’, and his hand down the back of Kris’ jeans by the time the door opened and the light turned on. Kris thought it a testament to Adam’s prowess in the bedroom (and out) that he actually forgot where he was for a moment, until he heard Lopez’s shrill voice asking them what the hell they were doing.

Adam scrambled off the couch and dragged Kris up to his feet so fast his head spun.

“I was on my break,” Kris said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“I don’t care what you do on your break,” Lopez said, not losing an inch of her Ice Queen composure. “I care that you decided to do it in my locked office.”

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid,” Adam said, not sounding the least bit sorry or embarrassed that they’d been caught in an (allegedly) compromising position. “We were headed for the . . . .” He made a vague motion towards anyplace that wasn’t the office. “We got, uh, distracted, and the door opened, and well, to be honest, I wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Lopez glanced towards the desk. The top looked untouched, everything in its place, but one of the chairs in front of it had been moved slightly off center. Kris didn’t remember either of them touching it, but that wouldn’t matter if Lopez grew suspicious.

“Sorry,” Adam said, actually sounding contrite this time. “We may have bumped into a few things before we found the couch.”

“Oh my god,” Kris groaned softly, not having to fake his embarrassment.

Which was a mistake, because it drew Lopez’s attention back to him.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yes!” Kris said. He grabbed Adam’s hand in preparation to drag him out of the office with him.

Before they could move, Lopez said, “And if you don’t let him do his job, I’m banning you from the club.”

It was better than being fired, but not at all what Kris wanted to happen. “It won’t happen again,” he promised.

Adam did not make the same vow. He pouted, actually _pouted_ , and said, “It’s not my fault, he’s just so distracting.”

“Me!” Kris yelped.

Lopez glanced at Kris as if weighing his ability to distract.

“You know, if you hired me, I’d be too busy to allow Kris to distract me.”

“Allow?” Kris said, his eyes going wide, as much from the comment as Adam’s improvisation. What the hell was he up to?

“We don’t have any openings,” Lopez archly informed Adam.

“I have an idea, if you have a few minutes.”

Lopez studied Adam, and then said, “I’m curious, so I’ll give you five minutes.”

“Adam,” Kris hissed. “Adam, I need this job,” he said, keeping his cover and reminding Adam to be careful.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Adam soothed. “I’m not gonna lose you your job.”

Lopez sent Kris on his way with a look. Adam pressed a kiss to the side of Kris’ head, sliding his altered iPod into Kris’ back pocket as he patted his ass.

Kris must have looked terrible when he returned to work, because Cale took one look at him and said, “Jesus, what happened?”

Kris didn’t answer right away, he was too busy trying to make sure he only sounded mortified, rather than worried about Adam when he finally spoke.

“We were, uh . . . .”

“Yeah, I figured that when Adam dragged you off,” Cale said.

Kris blushed, and then blushed harder when he thought about someone walking in on them if they’d been . . . for real.

“Ms. Lopez walked in on us,” Kris said, biting out the words.

“Oh,” Cale said, and Kris could tell that he was trying really hard not to laugh. “That’s . . . .” Cale swallowed hard. “Awful.”

“I hate you,” Kris muttered, and Cale stopped trying.

Cale snickered and snorted, and then he laughed so hard Kris thought about dumping a handful of ice down his shirt. He had to wipe his eyes with a napkin when he’d finished laughing, though _finished_ might have been the wrong word, since snickers kept escaping, even after he’d moved down the bar to draw a fresh beer.

“So, where’s lover boy? She didn’t kill him and stuff his body in the dumpster, did she?”

Kris’ eyes went wide. “No!” But he couldn’t help looking back down the hallway worriedly.

“Sorry, just joking,” Cale said when he saw Kris’ reaction.

It seemed to take forever for Adam to return to the bar, though it was in fact only fifteen minutes, and Kris spent every second of that time fretting. He also drew beer and mixed drinks and made change, but that barely registered on his mind.

Adam was smiling when he slid back onto the bar stool Kris had saved with well-directed glares and a fresh drink. Adam took a sip of it now and wrinkled his nose at the taste, diluted with melted ice. Kris was not inclined to freshen it.

“What happened?” Kris demanded.

“I got a job,” Adam said smugly. “Well,” he corrected, “an audition.”

“An audition? For what?”

~*~

Monte showed up an hour later with the equipment Adam needed. Tommy came with him and the three of them set up on the small stage that (Adam had some how managed to convince Lopez) was going to waste. Kris’ stomach was twisted up in knots because he was finally going to get to hear Adam sing.

Not that he’d never heard Adam’s magnificent voice (Kris had even asked him once why he’d gone into law enforcement instead of becoming a rock star, which had earned him a blow job, though he didn’t know why), because Adam would sing along when Kris played his guitar (and then Adam would strip Kris out of his clothes and have his wicked way with him. Not that Kris was complaining), but this would be the first time Kris heard Adam sing on a stage, even if it was in a club rather than the Staples Center.

“So, your boyfriend’s a rock star,” Cale said.

Kris just grinned, and kept on grinning when Adam started singing, because even just warming up and doing a sound check Adam sounded amazing.

“Why aren’t you up there, too?” Kris asked Tommy when he slid onto the stool Adam had vacated.

Tommy shrugged and picked up the beer Kris had placed in front of him. “Don’t need the full band for this one.”

Besides, he didn’t say out loud, they needed someone to watch their backs.

“You guys are in a band?” Cale said, looking intrigued.

Tommy gave Cale a long look before answering. “Yeah. We just fuck around with it.”

Cale looked at Tommy for a beat longer than was polite, but Tommy just looked back at him, seemingly unperturbed. Cale looked away when Monte stopped tuning his guitar and started playing for real. His mouth fell open when Adam started singing.

“Wow,” Cale said. “If this is you guys fucking around, I can’t even imagine what you’d sound like if you really went for it.”

Kris glanced up to the VIP section and thought he caught a smug smile on Lopez’s face before she hid it behind her glass. A rift would be great if they could take advantage of it, but not if they got caught in the middle.

Still, Kris couldn’t help the proud grin on his face. Or the blush when Adam moved from Mad World to Whole Lotta Love, his gaze holding Kris’ through the entire song.

~*~

Adam sang at He’s All That three nights a week, with Monte accompanying him on guitar. Tommy showed up at the club more often, watching his friends (turns out, they really were in a band together) and partners working the stage. Once Adam had Tommy come up on stage and show what he could do with a bass, and another time he snuck in Kris’ guitar and they performed a duet of Crazy, which they’d only ever sung together in the privacy of Kris’ apartment. It was pretty exhilarating, Kris had to admit.

It was also jealousy-making, which was a new feeling for Kris, who had only ever been jealous about who Adam spent time with that night after they’d met for the first time, when Adam had actually been _trying_ to make him jealous. Mainly because they’d rarely spent any time apart, Kris realized, and wondered how they managed it without getting sick of each other. Now, though, it seemed like Adam went home with a pocketful of numbers every night (even on nights he and Monte didn’t perform), and that wasn’t counting the number of propositions Adam received while he was _sitting right there with Kris_.

The first time Kris intercepted a napkin with ‘Joe 555-1873' written on it in black marker, tore it up in front of Joe, and told him to get lost before he kicked his ass, Adam had laughed happily and pulled Kris in for a kiss (and a little fondle that did in fact make Kris feel a little bit better) right there in front of everyone in the club.

“That was so hot,” Adam said. “I want to fuck you so hard right now.”

Instead Adam returned to the stage to finish his set. Before he sang his first song, though, Adam pointed across the club to Kris.

“That’s my boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen, and he’s a fierce bitch, so you can look, but don’t touch,” Adam said, indicating his own body with a flourish that did things to Kris.

The crowd laughed, and Kris figured he was probably as red as a tomato, but instead of hiding his face, he kept his eyes on Adam’s, his smile nearly splitting his face.

~*~

A couple nights later Adam seemed pretty serious, but he wouldn’t tell Kris what was wrong. Kris was working, otherwise he’d have pestered Adam and tried to get the truth out of him. Adam appeared nervous, but determined when he took the stage.

“Sometimes,” Adam said, and then had to clear his throat so he could continue speaking. “Sometimes you can be with someone for a year, five years, and no matter how hard you try, something’s still missing. And other times you can be with someone for a day, a month, and fit so perfectly that you know he’s the one you’ve been waiting for all your life.”

Adam glanced over at the bar where Kris stood with wide eyes and gaping mouth, his entire body having gone numb at Adam’s gesture. Adam started singing the first verse of a song Kris had heard him playing with late one night when he couldn’t sleep. Adam had promised he’d sing it for him when it was done, and now Kris knew why he’d wanted to wait. Adam stared right at Kris when he got to the chorus.

 _But if I had you,  
that would be the only thing I’d ever need  
If I had you,  
the money, fame and fortune never could compete_

Kris’ eyes stung, more from Adam’s words than the lyrics, though they were beautiful as well. He ignored every request for a drink while Adam sang to him, not even taking his eyes off the stage long enough to apologize to those he kept waiting. Kris figured they were rude to interrupt this moment with their piddling need for an alcoholic beverage.

Before the song ended, Kris jumped up onto the cooler and swung himself over the bar. He pushed his way through the crowd of bodies until he reached the stage. Kris threw himself at Adam, trusting Adam to catch him, and Adam did.

~*~

The following week Kris nearly had a heart attack when Randy Jackson joined the Anthony-Lopezes in the VIP section. He caught himself from flinging the shaker across the bar as the three of them walked out of the office and up the stairs, but only just.

After Kris served the drink and caught Adam’s eye, Adam pushed his phone across the bar so Kris could read the screen. He’d texted Monte, _have exterminator..._ Twenty minutes later Monte and Tommy showed up with the bug.

Kris was sweating it, worried that the Anthony-Lopezes and Jackson wouldn’t order a second round of drinks, and they’d missed their opportunity to plant the bug and get any information out of them. His concern proved to be unfounded because not long after Trey requested a bottle of champagne for the VIP section.

Kris got out the bucket and filled it with ice, carefully affixing the bug to the bottom. Cale got out the bottle from the fridge and stuck it in the ice before setting out three flutes. With a hurried thanks, Trey picked up the tray and unknowingly carried the bug into the VIP section.

Kris took a deep breath, worried now that the bug might not pick up anything, or that it could be discovered and they’d blame Trey, or even Cale, for planting it. He tried to concentrate on serving drinks, but he couldn’t stop wondering if this might be it, if they’d get the information they needed to take down Jackson’s organization. Kris glanced at Adam, who was talking to Monte, and wondered what would happen to them when this was over.

The next day Monte told them that they hadn’t gotten enough from the bug to take down the Anthony-Lopezes and Jackson, but that the team was still going over it. Kris was disappointed that they’d gotten nothing (so far, he reminded himself), but he couldn’t deny the little prickle of relief. He’d thought he’d hidden it well, but when they were alone Adam gave him a long look.

“What?” Kris said.

“What’s wrong?”

Kris shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kristopher,” Adam said gently. “We’re beyond that.”

Kris only hesitated a moment before asking, “What happens when this is over?”

When Adam looked like he didn’t understand, Kris thought about trying to laugh it off, change the subject. Instead he found himself saying, “To us. What happens to us?”

Understanding crossed Adam’s face. “Some things are going to have to change,” he said. “I mean, your apartment is way too small for my make-up, much less all my clothes.”

Kris tried to smile.

“And with your line of work, you can’t live with someone in my line of work.”

Kris swallowed hard. Adam was right; if Kris were to remain undercover there was no way he could continue living with Adam, a DEA agent. Adam reached for Kris’ hand.

“The important things aren’t going to change, though, and the rest, the rest we’ll work out.”

“We will?” Kris said hopefully.

“You think I’m letting you go now that I’ve found you?”

“Okay. Good.”

“Come here.” Adam tugged Kris’ hand.

“I’m right here,” Kris said. Adam had made sure they were sitting so close their chairs were touching, as were their legs, and their arms.

“No, here,” Adam said.

“Adam,” Kris hissed, glancing around the outside seating area. “I’m not sitting on your lap!”

“Wanna bet?” Adam said, and then dragged Kris out of his chair.

Not that Kris put up much of a fight.

~*~*~*~

A couple of nights later Kris was chatting with Cale while they worked, eyes moving to the door every once in a while. Adam’d had a meeting with Monte earlier that evening, but Kris expected him to walk in the door any minute. It was a little bit ridiculous how he couldn’t even go a couple hours without Adam before getting antsy.

The next time he glanced up, instead of seeing Adam as he’d hoped, Kris saw Bubba moving through the crowd towards the bar. It had been three years since Kris had seen Bubba, and his heart jumped into his throat at the sight of him. He thought about hiding, but then Bubba caught his gaze and Kris knew that this was no accidental meeting.

“Boss wants to see you,” Boyd ‘Bubba’ Jones said when he reached the bar.

“Aren’t visiting hours over?” Kris said, trying not to let his confusion (and fear) show.

Bubba’s smile was scary. “He’s no longer incarcerated.”

Kris’ blood ran cold, but he forced himself to speak normally. “I’m in the middle of my shift.”

Bubba touched his side, where the Glock he carried bulged under his jacket. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Kris glanced around the crowded club, and knew that Bubba would have no compunction opening fire. Kris’ mind whirled with unanswered questions – what was Alvarez doing out of jail, and what did he want with him? Kris wondered if his cover was blown, if Alvarez knew that Kris was part of the reason he went to jail.

The one thing he did know was that he had no choice; he had to go with Bubba. Kris wondered where Adam was. Part of him was glad Adam wasn’t there, because he might do something stupid and get himself shot. (Not that Kris wouldn’t do the same if Adam was in danger.) Another part realized that he could really use the backup right now.

“Alright, I’ll come,” Kris finally said when it looked like Bubba was getting annoyed with the delay.

Kris wiped his hands on the towel, then slowly made his way to the other end of the bar.

“Everything alright?” Cale said when Kris grew near, his gaze on Bubba.

“No,” Kris said, trying to keep his voice calm and not give in to the panic he was experiencing. “Call Adam.” He slipped his phone into Cale’s hand. “Tell him that Alvarez is out. He’ll know what to do.” Hopefully.

“Kris . . . .”

“Please,” Kris said. “He’s got a gun,” he added. For some reason he got the feeling that _Cale_ might do something stupid and get shot.

Cale’s shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

Kris pushed his way through the crowd. The Anthony-Lopezes were sat in the VIP section, and Kris prayed they didn’t see him leaving and create a scene. When Kris finally reached him, Bubba took his arm in a bruising grip and dragged him out of the club. Kris had to force himself not to look back over his shoulder to see if Cale was calling Adam.

Kris touched his stomach as if he was feeling ill, let his fingers press against the appendectomy scar which had been used to hide the tracker they’d implanted three years ago. They’d never had to use it, and Kris had barely given it a thought in the intervening years, but he prayed now that it was working.

~*~

Two armed men waited beside the car. They shoved Kris into the backseat and sat on either side of him, while Bubba slid into the front seat next to the driver. It was a tight, uncomfortable fit. Kris had no idea where they were going (all of Alvarez’s properties had been confiscated by the task force and sold, with proceeds funding the ongoing war on drugs), but it concerned him that he hadn’t been blindfolded. It only reinforced his theory that he might not get out of this alive.

The car finally turned into a driveway, eased through the gate that had swung open at their approach, and pulled up in front of wide stone steps that led to a set of double doors. Kris was prodded out of the car. He followed Bubba up the steps and through the doors. As they closed behind him, Kris wished he ‘d told Adam that he loved him. If things went to crap that night, that would be his only regret. Aside from the whole dying thing.

Bubba pushed Kris into a formal living room. Roberto Alvarez stood across the room, his back to them unconcernedly as he poured two fingers of scotch into a tumbler that held one ice cube.

“Kristopher,” Alvarez finally said, speaking as if they were meeting at some social function, rather than Kris having been brought to him at gunpoint. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Kris said, and watched a shadow cross Alvarez’s face.

“I had hoped you’d be happy to see me again,” Alvarez said.

“Seriously?”

“You might want to watch your tone, Kristopher,” Alvarez warned.

Kris snapped. He figured he was already a dead man, and therefore had nothing to lose. “You had me brought here at gunpoint. He threatened to shoot innocent people if I didn’t come with him!” Kris flung his arm in Bubba’s direction.

Kris slipped back into his undercover role as Alvarez’s latest shiny toy. “Not to mention, you are the reason I was nearly arrested! They picked me up at work, they put me in cuffs, and then they took me to the station and questioned me for hours!”

“Calm yourself, Kristopher,” Alvarez said as he settled himself into one of the two matching wingback chairs.

“Calm . . . . Calm myself?” Kris sputtered. “What . . . ?” Kris brushed a hand through his hair. “What are you even doing out of jail? Did you escape, or something?”

Alvarez gave Kris a condescending smile. “No. I got out on a little technicality.”

Kris bit back the curse. He couldn’t believe that Alvarez had walked on a technicality and no one had let them – him – know that he’d be out on the streets again. If Cowell knew about this and hadn’t told him, Kris was going to kill him. Not that Cowell would have done that, but it felt good to have a face towards which to direct his ire.

“A technicality,” Kris repeated after wetting his mouth. “What does that even mean?”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” Alvarez said, waving away Kris’ question with a pass of his hand. He sighed. “We have other things to discuss, you and I. You’ve greatly disappointed me, Kristopher.”

“What?” Kris said, infusing his voice with as much confusion as he could muster, which was actually quite a lot. He tried to ignore the lump of lead in his belly, and to keep his face from showing his very real fear that somehow Alvarez had discovered that Kris was an undercover LAPD officer.

“I hear you’ve been seeing someone,” Alvarez said.

Kris’ blood turned to ice at the mention of Adam, and the fear he’d been harboring for his own safety now turned into fear for Adam. Please, Kris prayed silently, don’t let Alvarez have discovered that Adam was DEA.

“Yeah,” Kris said with an insouciance he didn’t feel. “What of it?”

“You belong to me, Kristopher.”

Kris really wished that Alvarez would stop calling him Kristopher, and also, “I . . . what? Number one, I don’t belong to anyone, and I haven’t even heard from you in three years, what the hell!”

“Nevertheless,” Alvarez said dismissively. “I can’t have you giving yourself to another. You’ll have to break it off.”

Kris barked out a laugh. He hadn’t meant to, he just couldn’t help it, because seriously? _Seriously_? “No,” Kris said, shaking his head.

Alvarez studied Kris, and then shook his own head sadly. “I was afraid it would come to this.”

Alvarez nodded at Bubba, who in turn gestured to someone out in the foyer.

“Come to what?” Kris asked, his stomach suddenly filled with the fluttering of nerves.

“Just remember, you’ve brought this on yourself.”

“Brought what . . . ?”

Two thugs appeared in the doorway, dragging a limp form between them. Kris’ heart caught in his throat when he recognized the trace of blue in the dark hair, the freckles, the infinity tattoo on the inside of his wrist. The men dropped Adam onto the floor with no care for the way his head bounced off it, and Kris dove for him.

“What have you done to him?” Kris demanded as he pressed his fingers to Adam’s throat, searching for a pulse. Kris sagged with relief when he found one, weak, but steady.

“He took what was mine,” Alvarez said, and Kris shivered at the madness he saw in the other man’s eyes.

“I’m not yours,” Kris said evenly, firmly. “I was _never_ yours.”

As he spoke Kris dragged Adam, heavy with lack of awareness, onto his lap. He ran his hands over Adam’s face and neck, looking for the cause of his unconsciousness. He finally found the lump on the back of Adam’s head. He pulled his hand away, grateful there was no blood smeared across the skin.

Alvarez’s eyes flashed. “That’s a mistake I plan on remedying.” He gestured towards Bubba. “Take him away.”

The words, spoken so casually, were like a knife to Kris’ heart. “No!” he cried out, settling Adam back onto the floor and then leaping up and going for Bubba’s eyes with the only weapon he had.

Before he reached Bubba to claw at his eyes, Kris was knocked aside by a cuff to the side of his head, as easy as if Bubba had been swatting at an irritating fly. Kris’ head rang so badly from the blow that he barely felt his body meet the hard floor. Through the stars Kris saw Bubba reach down for Adam’s arm. He didn’t bother lifting him, just started dragging him across the floor.

Kris pushed himself to his knees and tried to steady himself. He doubted he’d be able to save Adam; they were outnumbered and outgunned. And with Adam here, there was no one to ride to Kris’ rescue. As long as he was alive, though, Kris was going to do everything he could to protect Adam. He’d fight until Alvarez finally killed him, because he’d rather be dead than become Alvarez’s plaything. Especially if Adam were dead.

Kris braced himself for the effort to surge to his feet and tackle Bubba, though he knew the move would be ineffectual. Kris was good at hand-to-hand, had been one of the best in his class, but Bubba was built like a linebacker, and even aside from his head injury, Kris was built, well, _not_ like a linebacker.

Before he gained his feet Kris saw something out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moving outside. The sound of breaking glass rang in his ears, and then there was smoke and voices raised in panic and confusion, and then gunshots. Kris crawled across the floor until he found Adam. He curled himself around Adam’s head and pressed his face to Adam’s.

“Be okay, please be okay,” Kris begged him.

Belatedly Kris realized that he should probably drag Adam away during the confusion, hide, sneak out of the building, and then he heard the most welcome words he’d ever heard in his life.

“FBI! FBI! FBI! Drop your weapons! Drop your weapons now and get on the floor!”

Kris stayed right where he was, trying not to cough, eyes running from the smoke, and not at all due to the relief coursing through his body that neither one of them were going to die that night. Someone squatted beside them and touched Kris’ back. He slowly raised his head to see a masked FBI agent.

“Kris Allen?” the agent asked softly, his voice sounded even more muffled and far away due to the mask. Or the blow Kris had taken to the head. Or both.

Kris nodded. He tried to speak, but just started coughing. Suddenly there was a mask over his face and Kris could breathe.

“Are you alright?”

Kris nodded again, then pointed to Adam, who was still unmoving, and the back of his own head in explanation. The agent indicated his understanding, and then he thumbed his radio.

“This is Agent Sinclair; I’ve found the package. Repeat, I’ve found the package. There’s a second gift under the tree, and we’re gonna need it wrapped.”

“Alright, David, good job,” a distorted voice came over the radio. “Gift wrap is on its way. Colby’ll be right there to help you get those packages out of there.”

Kris listened to the exchange with only half his mind. He took the mask off and placed it over Adam’s face, and silently prayed for Adam to wake the fuck up. Adam was suddenly lifted and pulled away from Kris. He staggered to his feet and tried to follow, not wanting to let Adam out of his sight. Someone grabbed his arm when he stumbled, and helped Kris out of the living room, and then out of the house and into the fresh air outside.

Kris went to his knees beside where they’d lain Adam out on the grass. He cradled Adam’s head in his lap and caressed his face, watching for any sign that Adam was waking up. Around them FBI agents gathered up all of Alvarez’s men, cuffed them, and loaded them into a van for transport. Kris was not so out of it that he didn’t notice that two FBI agents stood guard over him and Adam.

Moments later Kris watched them lead Alvarez down the steps and across the flagstone path to a black SUV. When he passed near them, Kris said, “If I ever see you again, I’m going to kill you.”

“That seems kind of harsh,” Adam said, his voice nothing more than a raspy whisper.

“Adam!” Kris said, bending down and bringing his face near Adam’s, placing a kiss against Adam’s lips, Alvarez forgotten.

The next few hours were a whirlwind that left gaps in Kris’ memory. They were both loaded into the ambulance when it arrived, with a promise from Agent Eppes that someone would come see them later to explain their rescue. Kris blinked once and the ride to the hospital was over. (The nurse later informed him that he’d passed out.) They were both examined in the ER, though Kris made the doctors’ jobs more difficult by refusing to let go of Adam’s hand except when he had to go have his head scanned.

Monte and Tommy stopped by to assure themselves that they were both alright. They were kicked out after five minutes, but Kris told them about Alvarez before they left and asked them to look into his release. He was still angry about that, but it was buried under the relief he felt that they’d both made it out alive. And possibly painkillers.

Finally he and Adam were alone. Kris couldn’t stand not being able to touch Adam, so when he tugged at Kris’ hand, Kris didn’t even think about resisting. He climbed onto the bed in the small space Adam made for him, and tucked himself in against Adam’s side.

“You weren’t moving,” Kris said. “I thought . . . .” Kris had to stop because his throat closed up and he couldn’t speak.

“Shh,” Adam said. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Adam played with the fingers Kris splayed over his chest, and then gently pressed the tips of his fingers to the purpling bruise around Kris’ eye.

“My hero,” Adam said, and Kris snorted a laugh that brought more tears.

They’d both fallen into an uneasy sleep when Kris heard the soft fall of footsteps. He jerked awake, his first incoherent thought that Alvarez had somehow escaped and found them.

“Hey, it’s okay,” a familiar voice said. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted to see how you were.”

Kris rolled over and looked blearily up at Cale. “‘S okay,” he said. Kris rubbed his eyes, wincing when he pressed too hard on the bruise he’d forgotten about. “How’d you know where we were?”

“Ahh,” Cale said. “That’s a long story.”

“Short version,” Kris said.

“Okay,” Cale agreed. He took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. “The official story is that the FBI had Roberto Alvarez under surveillance since his release, and they saw you taken and staged a rescue.”

“And unofficially?”

“When I couldn’t get a hold of Adam I called my boss. The FBI wasn’t thrilled that Alvarez had gotten out on a technicality, and they hadn’t been informed.”

“Join the club,” Kris said, and then the synapses in his brain fired. “Wait, FBI?”

~*~*~*~

After being woken up every three hours to make sure they hadn’t fallen into a coma, Kris and Adam were both discharged the next afternoon. Monte and Tommy came to pick them up and drive them to Kris’ apartment. Even if Adam hadn’t been staying with him, Kris would have wanted him there.

When Adam saw Kris getting ready to head to the club for his shift, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re going in?”

“I can’t just not show up,” Kris said. “We both need to keep our jobs, and someone has to explain that you . . . .” Kris’ voice cracked. “That you won’t be coming in tonight for your gig. You.” Kris pointed at Monte. “Stay here and keep an eye on him.”

“Fine,” Adam said, crossing his arms over his chest, “then Tommy goes with you to make sure _you_ don’t do anything stupid. Or stupid _er_.”

Kris rolled his eyes, but he bent down and touched Adam’s cheek before pressing their lips together. “I love you,” he said, and then ran away like a coward before Adam could say anything.

~*~

Anthony was meeting with a distributor, so Kris had to meet with Lopez to explain his disappearance last night, and that Adam wouldn’t be coming in tonight.

“What are you doing here?” Lopez said when she saw him, her eyes going to the bruise on the side of his face. “Cale called; he said that you and Adam wouldn’t be coming in tonight.”

“Oh. He did?” Kris was filled with an outpouring of love for Cale in that moment. “I didn’t know he did that.”

“You weren’t actually planning on working, were you? Because you look like you might fall over any moment.”

“Uh . . . .”

“Sit.” Lopez pointed towards the chairs fronting the desk. “Since you’re here you can tell me what happened.”

Kris told her what he could – the public version of events – and when his hand started shaking when he got to the part about discovering that Adam had been taken and _hurt_ , it wasn’t an act. Lopez showed some concern for Kris and Adam, but she appeared more enraged that Alvarez had dared to send someone into her club, even if it was only to take Kris.

When he had finished his story, Lopez said, “Go on, get out of here. Cook’s filling in for you.”

“Yeah, okay, um, thank you.”

Kris left the office with his head buzzing. Normally it was second nature for him to tell the lies his cover required of him, but today his concentration had been shot. Cale had come in while Kris was with Lopez, and he stood at the end of the bar talking to Tommy.

“Hey,” Kris said as he approached them.

Cale stepped back with an almost guilty air and turned to look at Kris. “Hey,” he said, sounding too cheerful. “You look . . . .” Cale paused. “Like crap, actually.”

Kris barked out a humorless laugh. “Thanks. And thanks for getting Cook to cover for me.”

As the day went on, more aches and pains had made themselves known. His throat was scratchy from the smoke, and muscles ached from where he’d hit the floor hard after having his bell rung by Bubba’s big paw of a hand. He’d thought he could work his shift, but now he was really glad that he didn’t have to. Not that he was going to admit that to Adam.

“You’re welcome,” Cale said. “You know, we need to talk.”

“Yeah,” Kris agreed. “Tomorrow? I’ll call you. I need your number,” he said, fumbling for the phone Cale had returned to him the night before.

“I’ve got it,” Tommy said, sliding off the stool.

“Awesome,” Kris said, drooping even more.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Tommy said.

“Yeah,” Kris said, suddenly remembering how he’d left Adam.

~*~

Kris texted Michael after he and Tommy left He’s All That. By the time they reached Kris’ apartment, Michael got back to him with a time and place. Tommy forwarded the information on to Cale.

Kris took a deep breath as he unlocked the door. Adam and Monte were sitting on the couch watching a DVD. Adam glanced up in surprise when he saw them.

“What are you doing back already?” Adam said worriedly, pushing himself off the couch.

“I’m fine,” Kris assured him, dropping his keys and toeing off his sneakers. “They got someone to cover for me, so I’ve got the night off.”

Adam’s eyes went dark. Kris wasn’t sure if he was so used to it that he didn’t blush anymore, or if he just couldn’t tell he was blushing.

“You’ve got a head injury,” Kris reminded him.

“And on that note,” Monte said, heading for the door.

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow,” Kris said before Monte could make a clean getaway.

“I’ll give him the details,” Tommy said, and then they were gone, and Kris and Adam were alone.

“Um . . . ,” Kris said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So,” Adam said as he lowered himself onto the arm of the couch. “What you said before.”

“Yeah,” Kris said. “I’m sorry.”

Adam frowned.

“I mean, for springing it on you like that. I shouldn’t have . . . if you don’t . . . I don’t want . . . .”

Kris stopped babbling when Adam pressed two fingers to his lips. Kris nervously licked his lips. Adam’s eyes went dark again when Kris’ tongue slid over his fingers. Adam dragged his thumb across Kris’ bottom lip. Kris watched the expressions flit across Adam’s face as he licked Adam’s thumb, and then caught it between his teeth.

Adam bent down and nipped at Kris’ bottom lip, then pressed his tongue between Kris’ lips. They kissed until Kris forgot about the ache in his head, forgot about drug dealers and kidnappings, forgot about everything except the way Adam touched him. They broke the kiss so they could breathe, and Kris pressed his face to Adam’s neck, clinging to his shoulders and trying to keep his knees from giving out under him.

“I love you, too, by the way,” Adam said to the side of Kris’ head.

“Oh,” Kris said. “Good.”

“Did you doubt it?”

Kris shrugged. “No. Maybe.”

Adam gave him a fondly exasperated look. “Never doubt it, Kristopher.”

Kris liked the way his name sounded on Adam’s tongue a whole lot better than on Alvarez’s.

“You know,” Kris said, feeling like his heart had swollen too big to fit inside his chest. “We just got released from the hospital today; we should probably lie down. On the bed,” he added in case Adam didn’t get the point.

“You have the best ideas,” Adam said.

An hour later Kris had to admit, that had been one of his better.

~*~

Before their meeting the next day Kris got a text from Michael changing it. “We’ve got to go to the station,” Kris told Adam. “Make sure Tommy tells Cale, will you?”

“Tommy?” Adam said absently.

“He’s the one that has Cale’s number,” Kris told him.

“Does he,” Adam said enigmatically as he typed the message to Tommy.

They stopped at the nearest Starbucks and got coffee, and then wandered down to the Farmer’s Market. Adam picked out some grapes and plums, and they ate them as they meandered through the stalls. Kris found himself imagining picking out fruit and fresh vegetables with Adam every week, cooking for him.

Not that Kris was a great cook, or even liked to cook, but for some reason Adam made him feel all domestic. At least he wasn’t getting all googily eyed over folding Adam’s socks, or something stupid like that.

They caught a taxi to the nearest mall, walked up a level and out onto the street, and caught another taxi to a bakery within walking distance of the station. When they finally entered the conference room, it was standing room only.

“Nice of you to join us,” Cowell said, even though they’d managed to arrive five minutes early.

In response, Kris dropped a bag of pastries on the table. Adam set his bag down on the other end. Murmurs of approval filled the room as everyone grabbed for the bags. Kris poured coffee for himself and Adam, but then they were separated as Michael, Matt and Anoop surrounded Kris to make sure he was okay, and to make deprecating comments about the judge, and the prosecutor, and everyone connected with the Alvarez case.

Cowell finally managed to get everyone’s attention back on the reason for the meeting, but it took Matt licking the last bit of sugar off his fingers to get it done. His first order of business was to address Kris’ and Adam’s injuries.

“I don’t know how notification slipped through the cracks on this one,” Cowell concluded, “but rest assured that heads are gonna roll.”

Cowell was not the kind of man you’d want to have drinks with, maybe (okay, probably), but he was very protective of the men that worked for him.

“Back to the case we’re currently working on. This is now a joint operation between the LAPD, the DEA, and the FBI. We’re joined today by undercover FBI Agent Cale Mills, and his contact in the Bureau, Agent Andrew DeRoberts.

Kris had seen Cale across the room, but he’d not had a chance to make his way over and greet him. He nodded a greeting now, and then turned his head to see Cowell glaring at him. “What?” Kris said. “It’s not like he was wearing a sign that said ‘undercover FBI’. He wasn’t even being, like, sneaky, or anything.”

There were snickers from around the room (and a muttered, “Like you’d have noticed if he was,” from Gokey), but Cowell just said, “Moving on. Desai.”

Anoop shifted before he started speaking. He was one of the most intelligent detectives that Kris knew, but he was uncomfortable being the center of attention. His partner, Matt, was just the opposite; he reveled in the spotlight.

“We’ve been going through the video and the pictures Kris and Adam got and we’ve ID’d several of the men and women Anthony and Lopez met with. The folders you found helped. It appears they’re blackmailing low level members of the various drug dealing syndicates. One has gambling debts, another is power hungry, one has a sick daughter and needs money for medical bills . . . .”

“We might be able to turn that one,” Adam said.

Kris met Adam’s eyes across the room.

“He’s thinking emotionally right now. He’s willing to deal with the Anthony-Lopezes because he’s desperate for the money, but if his boss found out, he’d kill the daughter in front of him just to make a statement.”

“If we offer him witness protection he might take it,” Kris added.

“We’ll follow up on that,” Seacrest said, making a note in his ever present notebook. “There are some others we might be able to get information out of, as well. It helps that Anthony and Lopez have done our work for us.” He turned to Matt. “Giraud.”

“We’ve also been going over the information we got from the bug. Something’s happening – we don’t believe Jackson would have come down to check things out if they weren’t getting ready to move product – but what wasn’t garbled seems to be in some kind of code. Even in their own club they were being extremely careful about what they said.”

“It’s not paranoia if someone really is out to get you,” Cale muttered. When he realized that everyone was staring at him, he said, “Uh, I managed to plant a bug during Jackson’s visit, as well.”

“Where?” Kris said.

“Beneath the emblem on the neck of the champagne bottle.”

“Bottom of the ice bucket,” Kris said.

Cale grinned. “Great minds. Anyway, you might be able to get something more off of this.” Cale passed a memory stick down to Matt. “And there might have been some interference from having two bugs so close together . . . .”

“We’ll have tech take a look at it,” Matt said. He waved the memory stick at Cale. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Also, they have a laptop. I tried to get into it, but it’s . . . .”

“Password protected,” Cale and Adam said at the same time.

“I’ve got a thumb drive,” Cale said. “We can copy their hard drive, I just need a distraction so I can get in there while he’s working on it.”

“Alright,” Seacrest said. “We’ll keep working on the bugs, and seeing who we can turn. You three get back out there. See what you can come up with to get in the office.”

“We’ve got too many undercover operatives and contacts going on right now,” Cowell said before anyone could move. “We’re going to consolidate – Agents Pitman and Ratliffe will be the go betweens, since they’re already familiar faces at the club. That’s it.”

Everyone waited for Cowell and Seacrest to leave the room before they began speaking. Matt and Anoop were excited about the new lead. Michael looked annoyed that he was being replaced as Kris’ contact, but Kris knew it was just concern for him – they’d been working together for three years now. That was proved true when Michael came up to him and said, “You gonna be okay?”

Kris assured Michael that he would be fine. He trusted Adam with his life, and he knew that Adam could trust his to Monte and Tommy. Kris left Michael dividing up assignments with Matt, Anoop and Gokey, and went over to speak with Cale.

They shook hands, and Cale introduced Kris to Agent DeRoberts. “Nice to meet you, man,” Kris said.

They chatted for a few minutes before Adam came over and asked Kris if he was ready to leave. Kris glanced up at Adam and smiled (ignoring Gokey’s scowl).

“Yeah, let me just . . . .” Kris turned back to Agent ‘call me Andrew’ DeRoberts. “You okay with staying here and . . . ?”

“Absolutely,” Andrew said, rubbing his hands together. “There was a time I didn’t think we’d ever get this close.”

Kris knew exactly how he felt. He took Andrew over and introduced him to the others, even though Cowell had mentioned his name earlier, and then left them to work Andrew into their assignments. Kris went to stand by Adam. His hand itched to reach out and slide into Adam’s, so he curled his fingers into his palm until his nails pressed ridges into his skin.

Adam finished his conversation, and then they left. Monte and Tommy stayed behind to assist the others, and Cale said he wanted to get a feel for the way the case shaped up with all their information pooled together.

Kris and Adam stopped for a late lunch, and then returned to Kris’ apartment to get ready for work. Since he’d started performing Adam had brought over even more product. Kris had no idea what any of it did, but sometimes he’d open up the bottles and jars and sniff them. It took Kris, like, five minutes to throw on jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers, and slap a little bit of gel into his hair, so he’d often sit on the edge of the tub and watch Adam do his thing, transforming himself from beautiful to drop dead gorgeous.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Kris mused.

“Do what?”

“Get even prettier.”

Adam’s hand froze mid-application of eye-liner.

“What?” Kris said, worried. “Was that the wrong thing to say?” Maybe Adam didn’t like being called pretty.

“No,” Adam said. “It wasn’t wrong, in fact, it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I’m just wondering how badly it would mess up my make-up if I kissed you right now.”

“Oh,” Kris said as his belly did that fluttery thing it did around Adam. “Would kissing lead to other things?”

Kissing _did_ lead to other things, and Adam did have to re-do his make-up, even though Kris told him he totally didn’t need it to be beautiful. And they still somehow managed to be on time for work.

Adam sat at the bar and drank ice water with lemon while Kris and Cale set up. The three of them chitchatted easily (much easier than Kris thought possible after everything that had happened the last few days), and Adam stole cherries and orange slices out of the garnish tray. Kris slapped Adam’s hand, but Adam just grinned and offered to share the cherry he’d just popped into his mouth. Kris declined, but he couldn’t lie, he’d been tempted. From the smirk on Adam’s face, Kris hadn’t hidden it very well.

Finally Monte and Tommy showed up. Adam stole a kiss before he slid off the stool, and the three of them carried in equipment and set up on the small stage. It didn’t take them long, and then Tommy retreated to the bar while Adam and Monte did a short sound check.

Kris loved watching Adam on stage, even when he and Monte were just fooling around like. Maybe _especially_ when they were playing around, because Adam didn’t seem as self-conscious then. Kris paused in stocking glasses beneath the bar, lost in the pure beauty of Adam’s voice. Kris still teased Adam for telling him that he could sing ‘a little bit’. Adam would just smile and distract Kris in the best possible way.

“Lopez,” Tommy said under his breath, and Kris started moving again. He glanced up and watched Lopez as she studied the club, making sure they were ready to open. He nodded a silent thanks to Tommy, then drew him a beer without having been asked.

“Thanks,” Tommy said, but Kris thought he saw the corners of his lips twitch.

“Oh, shut up,” Kris said. “I can’t help it that he’s so distracting.”

“Funny, he says the same thing about you.”

Kris couldn’t stop thinking about that for the rest of the night. They’d always been busy, but Kris had noticed an increase in business since He’s All That started offering live music, even on a Tuesday night. Lopez had made a smart decision when she’d hired Adam to sing. Not that Kris was biased, or anything.

Kris and Cale were kept busy – not hopping so they barely had a chance to breathe, but steady enough that Kris didn’t have time to speak with Adam after his first set. After his second set, though, Kris had to make time.

“I’m sorry to do this to you,” Kris said, “but can you come back here just for a few minutes? I have to go to the bathroom so bad.”

Adam laughed at Kris’ predicament, but he went behind the bar, only requiring a kiss in payment. It was a quick brush of lips, and then Kris practically ran for the bathroom. He blamed Cale; he hadn’t needed to go until Cale had told Kris he was going to the bathroom, and then disappeared for the next twenty minutes.

On his way to the men’s room Kris noticed that the storage room door was cracked open. He paused to push it open further, planning only on making sure the room was empty before he pulled the door closed, not wanting to lock someone inside. What he didn’t expect was to see Cale pinning Tommy to one of the shelves as they kissed and did other things Kris didn’t want to think about.

Kris wished for brain bleach as he pulled the door to and hurried on to the bathroom. Some things you did not need to see your friends doing. Kris paused for a moment at that thought, until his bladder got him moving again. Somehow, without intending it to happen, he’d allowed himself to make friends on this assignment.

Kris stood at the urinal when the door opened behind him. He didn’t think anything of it until Cale spoke from right behind him. Kris jumped, startled.

“What is it with people sneaking up on me when I’m peeing?”

“Sorry,” Cale said. “I just . . . what you saw . . . .”

Kris held up a hand (his free one). “Say no more. Please. But you just lost the right to make fun of me and Adam. Just sayin’.”

When Kris turned away from the urinal, all tucked in and zipped up, Cale was blushing. He’d never seen Cale blush before; usually Kris was blushing and Cale was laughing his head off at Kris’ expense.

“Huh.”

“Huh what?”

Kris stuck his hands under the faucet. “Nothing. We better get going. I left Adam behind the bar so I could pee.”

“Oh, god,” Cale said, moving towards the door as if he’d just remembered he had a job.

“Hold it right there, mister,” Kris said, sounding more like his mother than he wanted to think about. Cale skidded to a halt. “Wash your hands; I don’t know where they’ve been.”

“We didn’t . . . ,” Cale started to protest, and then he just stopped speaking and obediently walked over to the sink.

Kris really didn’t want to know. He beat Cale back to the bar by five steps. He was short, okay?

“You could’ve warned me!” Kris hissed at Adam as he took his place behind the bar and shooed him away.

“Warned you about what?” Adam said, and then he caught sight of Cale looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And also looking a little rumpled; Kris hadn’t noticed that. Adam glanced over his shoulder at Tommy, who was trying (very poorly) to disguise the fact that he kept stealing glances at Cale.

“Oh,” Adam said, and then he started laughing.

Kris, because he loved the sound of Adam’s laugh, and also because he wasn’t the one being laughed _at_ this time, grinned. Cale scowled at them both, which only made Adam laugh harder.

“You think it’s funny now,” Kris said, “but you didn’t walk in on them.”

As a remonstration it did a poor job, unless setting Adam off again had been Kris’ intent. Kris just shook his head and returned to serving up the backlog of drinks. When things had settled down, and Adam and Monte were back on the stage, someone said, “There must be something in the water.”

Lopez was leaning on the bar when Kris glanced up at the speaker.

“Oh, god,” Kris said. “I don’t have to look, do I?”

Lopez smiled, but it didn’t go all the way to her eyes. “They’re just making eyes at each other.” She indicated the stage. “Your boyfriend’s good.”

Kris blushed at the term ‘boyfriend’, but he couldn’t help looking towards the stage with pride. “Yeah, he is.”

“Sorry,” Kris said, forcing his attention back to the woman who was his boss (until he could help throw her ass in jail). “Did you need something, a refill?”

Kris darted a glance towards the VIP section where Anthony still sat in the booth they’d taken over, looking a tad bit displeased about something.

“I just needed a change of scenery,” Lopez said. “And a fresh drink.”

“Same?” Kris said, reaching for the glass, now empty of the drink she’d carried down with her and finished at the bar.

“Surprise me.”

Kris immediately decided on a margarita. It was his best drink (if he did say so himself), and he liked the irony of giving the woman they’d dubbed the Ice Queen a frozen drink. Kris got Cale’s attention as he measured tequila, triple sec, and lime juice over crushed ice in the blender.

“Take a fresh drink up to Mr. Anthony,” Kris said.

They hadn’t taken full advantage of the strain between the two; maybe now was the time to do so.

Cale looked over his shoulder at the other man. “He doesn’t look happy.”

“Let’s do our best to make him happy. Though not literally,” Kris added as Cale turned away.

“Ha, ha,” Cale said with a glare.

Kris just grinned and turned the blender on so he couldn’t hear if Cale said anything else.

~*~

So, you and Tommy,” Kris said when there was finally a brief lull.

Cale groaned. “I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about what I _saw_ ,” Kris corrected. “Which, for my own sanity, I’m pretending I didn’t see.” Kris shook his head. “I should’ve been suspicious when Tommy had your number.”

“That was for the case,” Cale insisted.

Kris reached out and patted him on the arm. “Sure it was.” Kris waited a second, watching Cale sputter as he tried to come up with a response, then said, “Seriously. You and Tommy.”

Cale went red. He glanced towards the end of the bar where Tommy sat, watching the stage and strumming along on his leg. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Kris said. “I’m happy for you, man.”

Cale smiled at the floor and actually scuffed his toe. “Thanks.”

“Just give me a heads up so I don’t walk in on you again, ‘kay?” Kris said as he reached for a glass to pull a fresh beer.

Cale snorted. “Like you’re one to talk.”

~*~

Monte left right after they packed away their equipment so he could spend some time with his wife. Adam and Tommy seated themselves at the bar and chatted while they waited for Kris and Cale to finish their shift and clean up. Kris couldn’t help the way his hackles rose when Lopez insinuated herself – and her plunging neckline and short hemline – between Adam and Tommy.

Kris knew that Adam loved him (his heart beat a little bit faster at the notion), and was gay besides, but he still didn’t like the way she flirted with two men she knew were taken. Kris turned away, hissed, “Bitch,” under his breath when she gave him a knowing look, as if she could read his thoughts.

“What is she up to?” Cale asked.

“I don’t know,” Kris said, but he didn’t like it one bit.

Not that he was going to do anything to sabotage the case they were slowly (too damned slowly) building, but if he could knock Lopez off her game it would be like killing two birds with one stone, Kris reasoned.

~*~

“Flowers.”

“What?” Adam said.

“I’m going to send Marc Anthony flowers,” Kris explained.

The hand moving over Kris’ chest stopped. “Should I be jealous?”

Kris snorted. “No. But I’ll admit, I might have been a little bit jealous myself. Earlier.”

Adam’s brow furrowed. “When? Oh, what, seriously?”

Kris shrugged.

“Is that why you, uh . . . ?”

Kris blushed. He might have been a little bit . . . aggressive when they finally got behind closed doors. “Maybe.”

“Hmm,” Adam hummed as he rolled on top of Kris. “I liked it.”

Later (much later), Adam said, “What kind of flowers?”

“Huh?” Kris said. It was totally not his fault that his brain was offline.

Adam chuckled. “Pay attention, Kristopher.”

“Can’t,” Kris said.

“Nothing expected, like roses or carnations, I think,” Adam mused.

“Hmm,” Kris said, hoping it sounded like he was agreeing with Adam, rather than still recovering. He didn’t want Adam to know that he still couldn’t form a coherent thought, much less words, because Adam was a gloater, and gloating didn’t look good on anyone, not even someone as pretty as Adam. Though if it _was_ going to look good on anyone, it would be Adam.

“Are you even listening?”

Busted. “Mmm.”

“You so are not. Are you even here?”

“Mmm,” Kris said again, only this time he tried to infuse it with irritation.

“Nice try,” Adam said. “I’d be annoyed that you weren’t paying attention, but you’re so damned _cute_ after I’ve fucked your brains out.”

Kris opened his mouth to say something suitably scathing (he was relatively sure, once he’d actually figured out what that might be), but Adam kissed him. It only took Kris a second to figure out that kissing was way better than thinking.

~*~

Flowers began arriving at the club the next day, every day. Lilies on the first, a bouquet of wild flowers the next, then deep purple irises. Not a rose or carnation in the bunch. Kris was impressed with Adam’s flower choosing ability, so left that up to him. Matt and Anoop worded the cards, which were less impressive than the flowers, but apparently did the job. Lopez was . . . Kris wouldn’t say jealous, at least, not jealous that her hubby was receive flowers from a secret admirer, more like jealous of the attention itself.

Aside from the great flower caper, they came up with a plan to get into the club while Anthony was working on the laptop and copy the hard drive. The Anthony-Lopezes didn’t have a whole bunch of security in the form of heavy bruisers at the club, presumably because they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves and appear other than a legitimate business. They decided to stage a robbery, but if it went wrong they wouldn’t get a second chance, because the Anthony-Lopezes would certainly tighten their security.

Once they were sure of the times Anthony was in the office working on the computer, they recruited two undercover LAPD officers who looked like bums and smelled like a dumpster to break into the club. The plan was that they act tweaked out, waving guns around and forcing Anthony (and Lopez and Todd, if they were in the office) out into the front to open the registers. While they were distracted, a third would enter via the back door (opened by one of the other officers), and use the thumb drive with fast copy software that Cale had provided to clone the hard drive.

When the robbery went down, Kris, Adam, Monte, Tommy and Cale were having a late lunch at a very public restaurant, giving themselves an alibi just in case they needed one. As soon as they got he word that the drive had been turned over to the techs, they broke up. Adam took Kris back to his apartment to celebrate a job well done. Even if they’d had little to do with the actual obtaining of the information, it was another step in the right direction of closing this case.

~*~

“It looks like we were right; they do want to start a war,” Monte told them two days later as they ate sandwiches at a picnic table in the park. “Let the existing dealers fight it out amongst themselves, and then swoop in and pick up as many pieces as they can.”

“Not that too many of them will be missed,” Tommy said, speaking what Kris, and probably the others were thinking, “but that kind of blood bath will spill over onto the streets, and a lot of innocent people will be caught in the crossfire.”

“Why the hell aren’t they moving product yet?” Kris groused.

“Maybe they’re waiting until they’re the only option,” Cale suggested.

“We need to do something to make waiting the least attractive option,” Adam said.

“We could leak information to some of the existing dealers that they’ve got moles in their organizations,” Cale offered.

“They’d start an in-house cleaning that might throw a wrench into the Anthony-Lopezes’ plans,” Monte said.

“Less chance of bloodshed,” Tommy commented.

“What if we take out some of the other organizations for them,” Kris said. “Force their hand; speed up the timetable.”

Everyone thought about that for a minute.

“How would we do that?” Adam said.

“We need to put more effort into turning some of those low-level guys the Anthony-Lopezes were talking to,” Kris said.

“If we disrupt their plan, we can control both the timetable and the bloodshed,” Monte mused.

Adam looked at Kris with an expression that said, my boyfriend is really smart. Kris squirmed under the frank regard.

They tossed around a few other ideas, and then Monte left to take their new plan to Cowell and the rest of the team. Kris tried not to look too obvious when he swung a leg over the picnic table bench and asked Adam if he was ready to head back. Adam had no such qualms. He placed both hands on Kris’ thighs before he could swing his other leg over the seat, and leaned in for a kiss.

“Mmm,” Adam breathed against Kris’ lips. “I’m always ready for that.”

“I was trying to be subtle,” Kris said, rolling his eyes.

Cale snorted, and Kris figured, what the hell? He curled his arm around Adam’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss. Adam slid his hands beneath Kris’ thighs and hoisted him onto his lap. Kris couldn’t lie; Adam’s strength was a turn on. He deepened the kiss and forgot about Cale and Tommy until Cale made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“Wow, look at the time,” Cale said. “I’ve got to get going.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tommy said.

“I think we scared them away,” Adam said when they broke for air.

“Who?” Kris said.

Adam grinned. He’d made no secret of the fact that he liked being the reason Kris’ brain turned off. Adam buried his face in Kris’ neck and just breathed him in. Kris cupped the back of Adam’s head and spoke his name softly. Adam didn’t speak; he tightened his arms around Kris and held on. Kris tightened his grip on Adam and they just sat there, holding each other.

~*~

The next few weeks were quiet, at least on the surface, but Kris knew that their team was working frantically behind the scenes. Cowell had agreed with the lead agents from the DEA and FBI that they couldn’t let things happen on to the Anthony-Lopezes’ schedule. They were currently working on turning as many of the men and women the Anthony-Lopezes had met with as they could. In a two-pronged attack, the task force prepared to infiltrate the drug organizations, as well as turn them against the Anthony-Lopezes before they could usurp the place of the existing dealers. It was an ambitious plan, and even though Kris wasn’t directly involved in that side of the operation, it finally felt like this might soon be over.

Kris had been thinking about what that might mean for him and Adam. One night, after Kris fooling around on the guitar had led to a truly spectacular blow job and getting manhandled over the back of the couch so Adam could kneel behind him and fuck him, Kris mentioned his decision to Adam while they were still floating in the afterglow.

“I’m quitting,” Kris said as he pushed his fingers through the damp curls on Adam’s chest. “After this case, I’m gonna quit.”

“LAPD?” Adam said, surprised.

“Undercover, anyway,” Kris said. “Unless they’d let me keep you,” he added with a sheepish smile.

“Kris,” Adam said, clearly overcome with emotion. “Baby, I don’t want you to . . . .”

Kris pressed his fingers to Adam’s lips to silence him. “Yes, you do. And I do, too.”

Adam kissed Kris’ fingers, then pulled them away from his mouth. “But . . . you love your job.”

“Yeah, I do,” Kris agreed, “but I love you more.”

Adam looked like Kris had hit him between the eyes with a 2x4.

“I mean, if that’s alright.”

Adam gave a laugh that barely hid the tears gathering in his eyes. “Yes! Of course. That’s more than alright.”

Adam hugged Kris tight, laughing and sniffling into his neck, and then he showed Kris just how alright he thought that idea was.

~*~

Once they had all the game pieces in order, it took another couple of weeks to get all the players into position. Depending on the information they’d gotten from the men and women they’d turned, the teams, made up of LAPD officers, as well as DEA and FBI agents, shut down labs, broke up deliveries, and pulled in members of the various organizations on unpaid parking tickets and jaywalking.

Once the major drug organizations in LA had been disrupted, the Anthony-Lopezes were forced to move ahead of schedule, or lose the golden opportunity that had been handed to them on a sliver platter.

Matt monitored phone calls and e-mails to Jackson, while other officers and agents tailed the Anthony-Lopezes when they weren’t at the club. Kris, Adam and Cale were kept as far away from the front lines as possible. Their jobs remained to keep an eye on what happened at the club.

Several weeks before, Adam had come up with a brilliant plan to get them a few hours in the club when it was closed; prime time for the Anthony-Lopezes to be brokering drug deals under the cover of operating the club. Since they both normally stayed until closing, they didn’t have to worry about the Anthony-Lopezes showing up at the club until sometime after noon.

While Lopez was still seething over Anthony receiving flowers from a secret admirer, Adam approached them and asked if he and Monte could come in early some afternoons to practice. When it looked like Anthony was going to do the smart thing and deny their request, Lopez slithered in like the snake she was (Kris maybe had some issues) and granted the request.

It was a mistake, allowing them in the club when they needed the privacy to arrange their side business, but it was good to know that her judgement could be impaired if they played upon Lopez’s emotions, and pitted her against her husband.

At first they just went in for a couple hours on the days Adam and Monte were scheduled to perform, getting their equipment set up and sound check done before any of the club’s clientele arrived. Most often, Kris, Tommy and Cale could be found sitting at a table near the stage to watch. Once in a while Lopez came out to sit at the bar and sip wine while Adam and Monte warmed up.

They inched their way into other afternoons, and oftentimes Tommy, or Kris, or even Cale, joined them for an impromptu jam session. It was one such afternoon when Todd entered the club, followed by one of the men the Anthony-Lopezes had met with. His expression of surprise at seeing others in the supposedly empty club was quickly masked, but not before Kris saw it.

Kris greeted Todd congenially, and Todd smiled back. He offered to get them both drinks as he slipped behind the bar, not waiting for Todd to tell him no. As Kris poured, sliding into the role of bartender, Todd seemed to relax. He and his guest took their drinks up to the VIP section. Kris returned to the table to watch Adam (and the others, but mostly Adam), and let his mind consider the look he’d seen, and turn over what it could mean.

When Todd and the other man (who hadn’t had a file in Anthony’s desk, and whose picture had been too poor to run through facial recognition, though Kris figured he had a nice, clear one now), left the upper level and disappeared into the back, Kris took a tray up and bussed the table, being careful not to touch the glasses too much. He placed the glasses into a plastic bag and sneaked it to Tommy before they opened.

“Fingerprints,” Kris said.

They’d run background checks on all the employees when Kris had started his undercover assignment months ago, and they’d all come back clean. Kris had a feeling that they’d missed something.

~*~

The results on the fingerprints came back quickly. They had no name or photo, but the prints Kris had taken from Todd matched those discovered at the scene when two low-level dealers had been found executed in Seattle several years ago. Gokey surmised that Todd, whatever his real name might be, was the enforcer for Randy Jackson. Or had been at the time of the murders.

It raised many questions as to what he was doing in LA, and why he’d arrived before the Anthony-Lopezes had.

“He may have started out as an enforcer, but I’m guessing he’s worked his way up,” Andrew offered.

“What, those rumors?” Cale said skeptically.

Cale and Andrew held a silent conversation, until Kris grew impatient. “What?”

“There’s been a rumor,” Gokey admitted. “Of a ghost in Jackson’s organization. Someone no one knows, who he sends in to scout and infiltrate before he makes his move.”

“He’s got his own undercover operative?” Kris said.

“Basically,” Monte said.

“If it’s true,” Tommy said, “can you imagine the stuff he knows?”

They were all silent for a few minutes, contemplating what the capture of such a man, if he actually existed, could mean for law enforcement. Not only to this case, but for the larger matter of taking down Jackson’s entire operation.

They didn’t have too much time to worry about it, because the next day they got word from one of their informants that the drug shipment was scheduled to arrive in LA in two days. Everyone was filled with a tense excitement, a feeling of relief that their months of hard work would finally bear fruit.

Kris, Adam and Cale were not to be part of the drug bust. They were going to be at the club, and as soon as they got word that the bust had gone down, they were to arrest Anthony, Lopez and Todd. Kris wouldn’t normally be allowed even this close to an arrest, but he’d already met with Cowell and Seacrest, and told them of his decision to leave undercover work after this case.

Cowell hadn’t tried to talk Kris out of it, but he had said, “I hope you’re making this decision with your head, and not your heart.”

When Cowell said ‘heart’ Kris heard ‘dick’, but he ignored it. “I’m making this decision _for_ my heart,” Kris said. He had a chance at real happiness, and he was a going to grab on and not let go.

The afternoon of the bust, Kris and Adam tracked down Cook. They found him standing on the sidewalk outside a music store, talking on his phone. Cook hung up, and he and Kris exchanged greetings. Kris introduced him to Adam, and then dove right into the purpose for their visit.

“Listen, do you mind letting me take your shift tonight?”

Cook raised an eyebrow. “You need the money?”

“Something like that.”

Cook narrowed his eyes. “Something’s going on.”

“What makes you say that?” Adam asked.

Cook slid his eyes over Adam, then back to Kris. “There’s something about the new owners, but I can’t pin it down.”

Kris made a snap decision to trust Cook. “You’re right. Something is going on, and you don’t want David there for it.”

“Dangerous?” Cook asked, concerned.

“Could be.”

“Then why do you want in?”

“Because it’s my job,” Kris said.

Kris palmed the badge (he’d received after the graduation ceremony he hadn’t attended. Tonight would the first time Kris wore it in the line of duty) from his back pocket and held it down by his hip, not wanting to flash it to everyone.

“Plus, I’ve got backup.”

Cook’s eyes, wide at seeing the badge, moved over Adam. “No way.”

Adam grinned. “Way.”

The door to the music store opened just then, and Kris slipped the badge back into his pocket.

“Hey, Dave,” David said as he rushed out onto the sidewalk, pulling up when he saw that Cook had been talking with Kris and Adam. “Oh, hey!”

“Hi, David,” Kris said, smiling. (Seriously, he couldn’t _help_ it, okay?)

“Hey, Arch,” Cook said, unselfconsciously pulling David beneath his arm. “Did you find what you wanted?”

David held up the bag he carried. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

“Remember that movie you wanted to go see?”

David looked up at Cook. “You have to work; I’m not going alone.”

“Not anymore,” Cook said, smiling. “Kris and I got to talking, and he could use the hours. And I could use some time with you.”

David’s smile was brilliant. “Really?”

“Really.”

“You guys have fun at the movies,” Kris said.

“You have a good time, too,” Cook replied. “Be safe.”

Before David could ask what they were talking about, Cook pulled him off down the sidewalk and distracted him by asking about show times. Kris and Adam stood there in silence for a few minutes, watching the two men walk away. And then it hit Kris that this was it.

“Whew!” Kris said, shaking out his arms to relieve the sudden build-up of tension. “This is really going to happen.”

Adam put his arm around Kris’s shoulders and pulled him in against his side. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice soft and sultry. “This is really going to happen.”

From his tone, and the way he nuzzled Kris’ ear, Kris knew Adam wasn’t talking about the bust.

“Then let’s get going,” Kris said, taking Adam’s hand in his own, and pressing a gentle kiss to Adam’s lips. A promise. A toast to their future together.

He wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of Adam getting shot when they took down the Anthony-Lopezes, or the debriefings and interviews they’d need to sit through after, but he _was_ looking forward to spending the rest of his tomorrows with Adam.

The End


End file.
